


Cannot Buy Me Devil, Devil

by ViceCaptain



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 1800s New Orleans Demon Summoning AU was too long, A bunch of Demons names are mentioned at some point, Angst, Blood and Gore, Demon Summoning, Demon!Flint, Demons AU?, I'm Going to Hell, It keeps messing the order of these damn tags and I'm done, It sounds very weird but bear with me, M/M, Monster-sex, POV Alternating, Prostitution (mentioned and actual), Rape/Non-con Elements, References and world building are hard so be kind, Swearing, Teach and Hands are an old married couple, These fucking bastards ruined my life, This quarantine is taking its toll, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViceCaptain/pseuds/ViceCaptain
Summary: Another thing he can rely on is how bored rich people always are, maybe because they don’t have to strive to get what they want. Either way, he has seen all kinds of different depravities and diversions, and yet they always come up with something new which in itself is more entertaining than he expected.As of lately, all the fuss is about spiritualism and the many perversions of it [...]
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 22
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dracontessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracontessa/gifts).



> I have literally no excuse for this. I feel like I slipped in a very deep and dark rabbit-hole and the worst thing is... I'm not even ashamed.  
> So, yeah, the concept came up when I and [my wonderful friend Dracontessa](https://dragonbier.tumblr.com/) discussed it after one prophetic dream she had and I won't bore you on how we spiraled down in all this madness, but I did marry myself to her cause and plummeted to the bottom with her. As usual, I suck at coming up with titles, so title and music recommendation: ["Devil Devil"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEMrDXP8vs4) by MILCK (Damn awesome song and inspiration)  
> 
> 
> **Read the tags carefully!**  
>  **Most importantly! you have to go and GIVE LOVE to Dracontessa that drew incredible, amazing art which inspired all this:[GO NOW](https://dragonbier.tumblr.com/post/617500751241101312/ok-sothis-all-started-as-a-super-weird-dream-i)**  
>  **More amazing art from her in the notes at the end!! It is very important that you know, so if you decide to say 'fuck this shit' you still can go appreciate her art**  
>  **Now there’s also this beautiful[Moodboard](https://phoenixspencer.tumblr.com/post/640641780094812160/so-i-made-this-because-i-was-so-pumped-over-the) made by Phoenixspencer, go stare and drool at it!**

**I.**

New Orleans, 1860.  
A bustling, thriving city full of opportunities, ripe for the taking. It only requires enough spunk to dare and seize them, maybe going about them through unconventional means, it may need some gambling at times, some compromises at others. The most important thing is always to believe the next time you try for it will be life-changing.

As for John Silver, he could only make use of his own assets and cleverness. He’s nobody’s son, he comes from nothing and would be very likely going nowhere. He also spent most of his life like he was nothing, felt how that nothing turned into hunger and starvation, turned into cold, turned into being regarded less than the cobblestone beneath people’s feet as they walked past without sparing even a glance to him.

But he was clever, he always was, cleverer than most of the dumb fucks that reveled into their comfortable homes, threw their money about just to prove they had it, thought themselves better than anyone else because they were born lucky. He didn’t begrudge them, but he couldn’t help thinking about what he could have done given their same opportunities.

No matter. As said, John was and still is extremely smart and he used it to turn the gaping void his whole existence was into _something._ It could be anything, _he_ could be anything. At first, he would only pretend to be some errand boy or part of the extra staff hired for this or that mundane event, taking place in this or that mansion, just to steal food, some valuables, little things to live a day longer. But with time he got more daring, he tried his hand at disguising himself as guests to this or that mundane event and was baffled to realize it only took a clean face and a good suit, paired with enough confidence to act like he himself believed his own lie.

Once reached that point, he found out that everything ran smoother, and more could be gained if he didn’t shy away from the idea of using his own body to achieve what his mind could not, considering how alluring his looks were. He reasoned that there was no reason not to, it was yet another trial to overcome in order to gain more. And oh, how those rich bored men lavished their generosity on him if he knelt or bent over or spread his legs for them, if he pretended for an hour or a night that he was their lover. Of course he sometimes chased after women too, but it surely was more profitable to go after men that were free to make use of their money. Besides, it added some danger to the thrill of his whole enterprise that with time turned into some kind of art he indulged in.

He’s well past his twenties now and his game has never been so strong, also because with experience came more layers to his farce and now that he’s more or less well known throughout the whole high society of the city, no one still dares to call out on his scam. Because he knows secrets about all of them and he has a long fucking memory.

He became dangerous, his mind turned into a weapon as he learnt the hard way that he better be always ready to protect himself. People better keep him on their good side, if they don’t want to suffer the consequences. Isn’t it better if they all have a good time without trying anything stupid?

Another thing he can rely on is how bored rich people always are, maybe because they don’t have to strive to get what they want. Either way, he has seen all kinds of different depravities and diversions, and yet they always come up with something new which in itself is more entertaining than he expected.

As of lately, all the fuss is about spiritualism and the many perversions of it, how it more often than not takes a turn for the darkest and instead of making contact with spirits, people would try to full-on summon dark entities. To be completely honest it usually ends up in filthy orgies while wearing funny capes and creepy masks. While sometimes they try to slip in more serious rituals.

He can’t for the life of him tell the difference, though, and just accepts the custom as the latest kink of New Orleans first class that doesn’t waste an occasion to steal from the black community, adding all kinds of voodoo practices just to spice things up (they surely perform poorly and make just a ridiculous pantomime of it all… just to add flavor before the filthy orgy).

He doesn’t particularly care for the whole trend, his methods and pastimes don’t really change whatever the new oddity could be.

It is in a suffocating mid-September night that everything changes for John Silver, when he cons his way into a high society night, held into the mansion of one Peter Ashe, a grossly rich widower that had been away from public life since his wife died. He apparently is ready to make a comeback with that event.

That night the air is hot and damp, it sticks to the skin and even breathing feels ten times heavier, a thick fog rises from the bayou, just beyond the circle of the city lights, far enough that it merely stands as a black background, but close enough that the lazy croaking of hundreds of toads can be heard from the open windows. The sky is starless and covered by low clouds.

In such a night, every activity feels like the most tiring endeavor, but even so, music and drinks fill the salon, the guests chat or dance or sneak away into empty rooms, nothing seems out of the ordinary, really, and he smoothly blends in with his easy smiles and bright blue eyes, his pretty face hiding the acute intelligence, ready to strike to find weaknesses or put the right word to the right ear.

Later in the night, when most of the guests have already left, he finds himself alone with Ashe and some of his acquaintances, Silver knows for a fact that the majority of them highly despises him and isn’t really keen on being alone with them, already planning a quick escape. Though he can’t predict Ashe’s intentions are different than anything he could have expected.

If the host wanted to beat him up or share him between his friends he would have been ready, it wouldn’t even be the first time some rich man roughed him up like that, and honestly, he considers it to be the easy way out of it. But this time, the right-hand man, helped by those acquaintances (one Mr. Hornigold and his lapdog Dufrense), circle and restrain him. And here’s the terrible flaw in his plan: he’s alone against many that have decided to target him together.

He has no idea what they might want with him or why they are pulling him along to the dark attic of the mansion, but he eventually finds himself forced on his knees on the floorboards, hands tied behind his back while his eyes get used to the dim light of the candles placed around him in a perfect circle, hooded figures he can’t recognize stand behind them and he realizes that’s a set up for some kind of ritual.

Maybe, to fuck his way out of all that is still a possibility, he reasons. He turns to Ashe, the only one that isn’t wearing a cloak, that is reciting something in an unknown language and whatever languid word and gaze he had been ready to throw at him die before they can see the light because the man looks nothing short of demented, his eyes are frenzied and blown wide while he reads the words, sweat is drenching him and his body is jittery, hands trembling. He looks nothing like the man that hosted the whole evening with restraint and decorum.

That madman almost seems another person altogether and whatever it is he’s reciting right now, he’s not joking about it.  
“Mr. Ashe” he tries, voice carefully measured even though he feels like screaming right then “I don’t know the meaning of all this, but you might want to reconsider. You look like you need a medic” and he’s mindful enough to slip some worry in his tone, hoping to make the other believe he gives a damn about his well-being.

Ashe looks up at him, interrupting his low chanting, his stare is enough to make cold sweat break all over his skin, but then he smiles like a lunatic and shakes his head “I only need to complete this… His power will give me my wife back… And you… You are the sacrifice, Mr. Silver”  
John swallows audibly “I assure you, I’m the farthest I could be from being a virgin” he says.  
“We don’t need that kind of asset for this ritual, you can relax. And before you ask, it has to be you” the man adds.  
“Lucky me” Silver mutters more to himself than the other. But at least he’s buying some time while he tries to undo the ropes on his wrists, so he presses on “It has to be me, you say. Why that?”

Peter Ashe glances up at him again, this time with annoyance on his face “I personally don’t care whether it’s you or someone else, but I’m granting a favor to some friends. They think you know too much about too many people” he replies with a growl. Surely his ‘friends’ include the bastards that blocked him and helped Ashe to bring him there. At least their actions made some kind of sense.

Everything else didn’t, though.  
“Mr. Ashe… Peter” he calls again, voice made strained by the rough hand of the lackey fisting and pulling on his hair “All this… this madness won’t bring your wife back. I’m sorry, I really am… but there’s no ritual for that… Stop, before you do something you will regret”  
The man’s shoulders sag at those words, but his expression is unreadable, clouded by grief-induced madness “maybe it won’t work… but don’t mistake me for someone that could regret killing a worthless thing like you” he spits the words with bitterness.

Silver’s expression turns cold, his glare unforgiving, those words woke something dark and ugly in him and he suddenly feels like he could kill the bastard with his own hands “Right. My life is worthless, it surely isn’t valuable enough to be bargained for your wife’s” he says “And I sure pray that my rotten soul will taint this whole travesty.”

Ashe considers him for some seconds before he returns to his mysterious spells, dismissing his words. In the meantime, the roof over them is starting to groan and shake, maybe a storm rolled in, maybe that damn ritual really does something. Either way, he won’t be there to find out the truth because he can feel he’s about to free himself from the restraints… just when he manages to slip one of his hands out of the ropes, searing pain erupts through his body, cutting his breath and draining all his strength.

His now free hands reach for the blade that has just been thrust in his abdomen by Ashe’s lackey. He can only stare as the man pulls the knife back, blood immediately gushing and drenching his white shirt with red, thick liquid. The blade stabs into his insides two more times and the full onslaught of pain hits him only when he falls forward, his trembling arms giving way beneath him while so much blood leaves his body he can smell it.

A cold sweat breaks all over him as he goes into shock from the blood loss, he curls on himself against the gut-wrenching agony that tears through his internal organs. He can’t hear anything besides the hammering of his heart in his own ears and his heavy, struggling breath.

He barely registers when the floor beneath him starts shaking as if the whole mansion is about to collapse and he can only think that he hopes it does… He really didn’t want to die, but now that it seems inevitable he just wishes it wouldn’t be so slow and painful. He tries to crawl away but it hurts too much and he merely manages to roll on his side with a pained groan, his sight is getting foggy but he can see his torn shirt completely soaked in blood, the jagged skin around the vicious wounds peeks from the tears in the fabric and he’s lying in a wide puddle of the stuff, the coppery smell is sickening and he starts slipping in and out of consciousness every time he blinks.

John sees briefly the wooden floor drinking his blood, somewhere in the back a shadowy figure has appeared in the circle of candles, but he can’t tell if it actually exists or if he’s just seeing blurred things while life leaves his body with each raspy exhale. When he closes his eyes next and slips out of consciousness again, the blackness feels warm and he can feel a hot breath ruffling his hair, caressing his ear and cheek. In the darkness of his subconscious, a red glow gradually lights up his surrounding, as if he’s trapped in a fire… he must be delirious or on the threshold between life and death. He looks up and gasps, unable to move anything but his eyes.

Bent over him is a hulking figure that slowly straightens when it realizes he can see it. The _thing_ is tall, covered in red fur from its goat feet all the way to its whirling imposing horns, between them a floating flame burns like the hellish equivalent of a halo, on the top of its head the fur turns into a bright red mane that flows down its nape, a black leathery cloak covers the right half of its body, but he can very well see how its left hand ends with sharp claws, golden rings shine on its fingers and more of them glint in a chain on its cloak. What has Silver freeze with terror, however, is the creature’s face: it looks like the skull of some animal, maybe a wolf or some other apex predator, all sharp edges and pointy ends, its lipless mouth is filled with long razor-like fangs, three pairs of eyes squint down at him, they are the brightest green he ever saw, almost glowing amidst all that red.

The demon (he can’t call it anything else) exhales noisily through its nostrils and looks him all over, the look in his eyes sends shivers all through his body. It steps closer until it stands directly above him, hooves clopping loudly on the floor, a clawed hand reaches to push strands of black hair away from his face.  
“I offer you a choice, Human” it says and that voice freezes the blood in his veins, it’s like two different throats are producing the noise, one that only echoes the words with deep growls and the other that sounds like something making an incredibly good impression of a man’s voice.  
“Make a deal with me and I’ll save your life.”

The alternative is pretty obvious, he’s doomed already. But if he’s the sacrifice they used for the ritual, how comes the Demon is offering _him_ a deal? Silver licks his dry lips, tastes blood on them, and suppresses the retching it causes with a whimper “W-why?” he asks.

The Demon huffs through its nostrils again, the lines in its scowl seem to soften lightly for a brief moment and he translates it as a chuckle, like it’s impressed with him.  
“Because, much like you, I have been tricked and forced here. Who summoned me has no intention to make an honest bargain” it shrugs and it comes across like an animal stretching its muscles before pouncing “They want to enslave me and use my power. They set traps for me. But if we make a deal they will fail because I’d be responding to you”

It surely sounds tempting, not only to survive, but to have such an entity compelled to follow his command. “For a price” he stutters.  
“Of course. A price that I will eventually collect.” The other replies.  
“And what’s that price?” he asks then.

To that question, the Demon lets out a beastly snarl, jaws snapping like any resemblance of humanity is slipping away from it. The creature bends over him, standing on its four now, its mouth dangerously close to Silver’s ear and neck, its breath is incandescent on his skin while it seems to be sniffing at him.  
“Flesh and bone and blood” it growls.

It’s already a surprise that the Demon isn’t asking for his soul and even if John doesn’t know the first thing about entities, summoning rituals and all that shit, he knows the deal sounds like his only way out of dying right then. He turns his head to face the creature, still so close they are breathing the same air “I accept” he whispers with the last of his strength and he sees the beast’s jaws open, a long, pointy tongue sneaks out and climbs its way past his lips, licking in his mouth like it’s tasting his blood and it feels like fire has been poured in him.

And then everything fades to black.

John slowly comes to his senses, once again slipping in and out of consciousness with every blink of his eyes. He hears shouting and running, growls and disgusting squelches, he catches blurred glimpses of what is happening around him and can barely make out the red imposing form of the demon turning to Ashe before it lounges for him with an incredibly nimble pounce, it slams the quivering man against a wall, one clawed hand closes around his neck while the other plunges in his chest like it’s made of butter, it reaches behind his breastbone and pulls his heart out, crushing it tightly in its fist.

The next glimpse he gets after some more seconds of black is that of the Demon tearing the throat of Ashe’s lackey, the sound of splitting skin is sickening while blood and entrails explode from the man’s neck as the creature pulls at the flesh with its fangs and chews on it, giving sharp tugs with its head like an animal that strips the meat from a carcass.

John blinks again and when he opens his eyes the Demon is back on him, sniffing at him like he did in that strange void between life and death “You’re dying” it growls and Silver wants to throw a caustic retort, but he’s drained, the only thing he manages is a shaky “please”  
“You promise you will keep your end of the bargain” the other adds, proving once more that it isn’t a mindless beast, quite the opposite.  
“I promise” he all but sobs.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the Demon tears his shirt like it’s paper, its clawed hands grab on him to make him turn, pain shooting along his nerves. Now that he’s lying on his back, the other takes its time to study him and only then the creature plunges its greedy tongue inside his open wounds, it’s searing hot and he can feel it lap at his flesh, reaching deeper than it should be safe… unexpectedly, the heat expands gently, like it caresses him from the inside and soothes the throbbing organs. A tingling sensation spreads through his body and even if it shouldn’t, the act is becoming quite arousing honestly.

When the creature pulls back, it finishes by licking at the torn skin in his abdomen, the hot tongue feels like a gentle flame that sweetly burns the pain away, leaving only faint scars in its wake and shivers that ignite his nerves. His senses gradually return to him, as if the massive blood loss had been reversed and the liquid is slowly flowing back in.

It’s like waking up from a terrible dream and Silver sits up with a gasp, only to find a big, clawed hand pressed on his chest, trying to keep him still. Now that he’s regained his wit and isn’t going mad with pain and fear, to see that beast looming over him is utterly terrifying, how he’s not screaming is a mystery to himself, but it has no intention to move apparently so he reasons it’s up to him to start talking.

“Is… Is it sealed, then?” he asks, wide-eyed and tense, still lying on the floor while the Demon stands on his four above his prone body, its muzzle so close that it breathes directly on his face. To be trapped by a predator must feel like that.  
“Our deal?” it asks with that sincerely disturbing voice. The young man nods nervously.

“Not quite” the creature replies and for a second, John is afraid it will ask for its payment right then and there or that it will call it off and just kill him. Instead, the Demon looks him all over with what seems fascination, or some perversion of it, and those absurdly green eyes feel so intense he physically flinches.  
“What then? Shall we… sign something?” he tries, voice betraying the uncertainty filling him “Spill some blood to make it official?”

That snort-like huff is all the reply he gets before the beast sits back on its heels and manhandles him like he weights nothing, forcing him on his hands and knees which is already enough to realize what is about to happen. Panic rises in him, of course he found himself in that spot more than once and he didn’t always want it but went along with it to get out of dangerous situations. But that is something else entirely.

Silver gasps in surprise when his remaining clothes are torn from his body, leaving him naked and exposed for the monster towering over him. His limbs tremble and sweat breaks all over him while he looks back over his shoulder to see the Demon pushing its cloak aside, it looks even more imposing now that he can see the rippling muscles beneath the fur, pulling tight on its chest and stomach, on its arms and neck, shifting with its every move like they can barely contain the strength and fury. Its whole frame actually looks like it is straining to hold back whatever it is inside him. Its hands grab on his thighs and squeeze, moving up along his behind and then his back. John whimpers despite himself and shuts his eyes against the evermore rising panic, his head hangs between his shoulders.

The Demon presses its body against him and it burns hot, like the beast is coal-fired, its breath on his nape is like steam while it sniffs through strands of his black curls. The torrid heat plastered over his back is enough to distract him from its movements and he realizes that things are getting serious only when he feels the press of hard flesh against the curve of his ass and its jaws disclose around his neck like they are about to snap but they never do, they nibble haltingly on the skin while scalding spit drips from its fangs and tongue. The creature’s mouth is watering.

His fleeing instinct kicks in and he tries to move away from it, but the big sinewy hands on his back apply pressure on his skin, holding him in place and guiding him back while the creature’s cock breaches him, its control seems to weaver too as it growls ominously and its claws break the skin, leaving long vicious scratches along John’s back, its hands are trembling like the Demon is struggling to hold back its own strength. At the same moment, its hips snap, its throbbing member parts his insides with a brutal thrust.

A wave of searing pain splits Silver’s whole body, the sudden intensity of it makes his arms give way, they bend and he finds himself leaning on his elbows, helpless sobs leave his mouth… it’s all too much. It’s a small act of mercy that the Demon stills to let him get used to the intrusion. He couldn’t get a glimpse of the thing, but it feels frankly huge which would make sense since the creature is massive enough. He sucks deep breaths trying to relax and he doesn’t know if that is enough to make the creature realize or if the Demon had been trying to calm down just like him, but it retracts its claws from his skin, its jaws pull away from his neck while it nuzzles along his hair and ear… it’s almost reassuring. At least compared to how the beast had behaved up to that point.

“I won’t hurt you” it half-growls against his skin “If you allow me”  
“I think you’re… already past the point of asking permission” Silver pants.  
“It’s not only about your body. You have to believe I won’t hurt you” the beast replies and its gentle nuzzling is starting to resemble the animal-equivalent of kissing, as crazy as that sounds, its hands are now caressing his sides and hips and thighs, almost soothingly even if they are still trembling.  
“I can’t trust you” he whispers, closing his eyes and getting ready to face the other’s rage.

It never comes. Instead, the Demon laps at the bleeding scratches on his back and just like his wounds, the pain dissolves and is replaced by a tingly warm sensation. Then the creature shifts, nuzzles its way back to his ear “You have to” it says and even its voice sounds softer, still disturbing but the growls have toned down to a loud purr.

Silver sighs and relaxes his tensed up muscles. The Demon could just take him against his will at this point and it surely has the power and the strength to just take what it wants, it has no use for him not being in pain… it could just dismiss it and carry on. The most obvious thing seems to be trusting the beast _this one time_ and he quietly gives up control, spreads his legs and pushes back against the other, as if granting permission.

The shift seems little, but as soon as John allows himself to somewhat trust the creature’s words, a warm sensation expands through his whole body, starting deep in his chest and quietly filling him, climbing up his limbs and lazily melting whatever pain or discomfort he had been feeling. He sighs in relief and even the alarming heat of the creature’s body turns into something warm and almost reassuring. They had a rough start, but he can deal with something like that…

The creature lets out a quiet approving growl and rolls its hips, it’s slow and controlled, surprisingly enough, but as soon as it does that warmth expands even more and starts shifting towards heat, like blowing on embers, and it melts whatever tension was left in the human’s body, makes it go easy and soft around the beast’s member. It doesn’t take long for the Demon to thrust with purpose, pulling back and ramming back in, its fingers curled possessively around his hips.

By then, Silver has gone from being terrified and in pain to arching and moaning in the other’s hold, pulling himself back up on his shaky arms so that he can better push back and meet the thrusts halfway.  
“Fuck” he pants, voice broken by pleasure “y-you’re so deep” if only the thing inside him didn’t nail on his sweet spot over and over again, he could have some sense left and could be wondering if he really is that much of a slut, losing his mind on _Demon_ _cock_ and actually loving every second of it.

His reactions seem to fire the creature up because it presses against him again, making him bend until he’s back on his elbows, using its big frame to cover him and grunting in pleasure when the human moves with it to meet every thrust halfway. Its trembling hands move all over the delicate skin, itching to claw and squeeze and very likely rip, but they just run along the lines and shifting muscles, exploring. One of them brushes along his dripping member, moves past it up his stomach, skids over his chest and gently curls around his throat, the thumb traces his jaw all the way to the chin and delicately tilts his head back…  
As soon as the Demon’s scorching tongue licks a lazy path from his collarbone, along his neck, to his ear, the man comes with a loud, broken moan, his whole body quivers with the intensity of it and clenches around the creature’s hard flesh, forcing it to follow close, it manages three more vicious thrusts before it snarls against his skin and spills its release while buried deep in him… it feels like liquid fire filling his insides.

Silver’s body goes lax between the other’s hands and he finds himself lying on the floor, panting, loose and slick, covered in sweat and thoroughly fucked, unable to pull himself up for the time being, he can just roll on his side not differently from when he had been stabbed earlier, but surely feeling a whole lot better. His eyes search for the Demon, finding it kneeling close, its own breath is labored and its bright eyes are fixed on him. Honestly, John finds he’s not as scared of it right now… could even consider the idea of repeating the experience.

“This… yeah, it beats signing a contract” he comments with a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.  
The beast makes its huffing snort before standing, every sign of exertion already gone, which is utterly unfair compared to the state John is in, he’s not even sure he will be able to _walk_ right now.  
“So what now? I summon you when I need it?” he asks and sits up with a flinch from his aching _everything._  
“No. I’ll be with you” it replies winning a skeptical look from Silver.

The Demon gives him an irritated exhale and a snippy little snap of its jaws that John suspects is the beastly equivalent of an eye-rolling. It then tugs at its cloak like it’s taking it off, the cloth billows with a rustle and for a moment hides the creature in a quick blur of black. When the cloak moves away, the figure standing there is not the beast, but a man.

A man that isn’t nearly as tall as the creature had been, but his body is clearly well-built, fit, with broad shoulders, a thick neck and strong strapping legs, the body of a fighter, visible even through his black clothes. He’s (John can't help refraining from considering that a 'it' now) unexpectedly pale, but the exposed skin is sprinkled with freckles, his hair and beard are of an intense shade of ginger, alarmingly similar to the mane he had in his beastly form, he looks like a man in his mid-forties and one that is painfully handsome, too, with thin pink lips, a tall forehead, frowning eyebrows and a pair of sharp, predatory eyes of that same intense green that seems to almost glow. He’s even well-dressed. And although he looks nothing like the creature that he actually is, there’s something to him, maybe in his gaze, that John can recognize.

That’s easily the most attractive man he ever met. “ _Now_ it takes _this_ form” Silver thinks aloud, eyes glued to him.  
“I beg your pardon?” replies the Demon and of course, _of course_ his voice is low and sensual. Why wouldn’t it be?  
“I would have taken the deal much quicker if you appeared like this right from the start” he says and knows the other is still an otherworldly creature most likely not well inclined towards criticism, but he can’t help himself.

The man quirks a brow at him “I couldn’t before we sealed the deal” he offers like it’s obvious (and the implications about his looks get completely lost like he’s oblivious to it).  
John is suddenly very tired, not wishing to deal with all that occult stuff.  
“Right” he sighs and looks away from the absurdly beautiful man to search for something he can wear, since his clothes had been shredded to pieces. It could be an excuse to try and think without being distracted by the other. Which is very difficult. He gasps softly when the man drapes his long coat over his shoulders.  
“You can steal some clothes downstairs” the Demon says “but you are probably cold right now” indeed the coat is nicely warm and Silver gives him a little thankful smile, actually taken aback by all that thoughtfulness.

Now that the Demon has taken that form, he moves with confidence and ease, powerful and fluid and completely different from his other form that seemed to struggle with restricting his strength or in making any motion that wasn’t meant to attack and maul. There’s still something incredibly dangerous lining his every movement and in a way, John finds that he’s scarier like this.

“How does it work, then?” he asks, licking his lips nervously, the pleasant post-coital warmth is fading, along with the initial reassurance he felt when the other changed his form.  
“That is up to you. We can help each other out, like friends of sort. Or you can command me, although I wouldn’t recommend this option.” The Demon replies with a carefully neutral expression on his face.  
“I reckon commanding you would require some knowledge of the occult and I clearly don’t know the first thing about it” Silver reasons.  
“Oh. Yes, also that. But mostly I’m not keen on being ordered and toyed with. Not in the least” the answer is calmly spoken but sounds like a threat. John swallows hard.

They study each other for a brief moment, one assessing that the message has been correctly received, the other trying his best to scream his assent through his eyes, before the Demon moves again and bends to offer his hand and help Silver up to his feet “Friends helping each other, then” he confirms, a wicked smirk curls his lips and almost makes his legs give way beneath him…

He really is the Devil. And damn good at tempting, because right now Silver feels a great deal more aroused than scared. He can’t help but stare for longer than necessary and his eyes are still fixed on those lips when he asks “How should I call you? I mean, you must have a name…” and he mentally frowns at how tentative his voice comes out.  
“I’ve had many names” the other admits “and my real one can’t be spelled in any human language.” There’s a hint of distaste in his voice, maybe the idea of humans trying to apply their own names to such entities that they can’t even fully comprehend doesn’t sit right with him. Which Silver can positively understand, he can even relate.

When the Demon speaks again, something shifts in his expression, it is unreadable enough but it seems to soften slightly “The last time I was on this plane, this form was given the name of James Flint” his gaze grows distant for a second, like he’s remembering and then pulls himself together immediately, he exhales and hides behind another little smirk “And how should I call you instead?” he adds.  
John can’t keep his own usual grin from flashing across his face when he replies “John Silver.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t believe I saw the bastards that restrained me among the people you so thoroughly mauled, upstairs” John says, sounding almost carefree “The two that arranged for me to be killed in the ritual”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are then. As always my thanks go to my [adorable friend Dracontessa](https://dragonbier.tumblr.com/) for the inspiration behind this whole ordeal, the constant support and amazing reviews ;w; you make my tiny, shriveled heart flutter.  
> Without further ado, let me slip TWO musical recommendations for this chapter here: 1- [Hush (Turn Theme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKq4XunvNuE) by Joy Williams and Matt Berninger 2- [Dinner and Diatribes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HlLx7oE7q3I) by Hozier that helped with its video too.
> 
> **Read the tags carefully!**

**II.  
**

  
It must have been about a decade since he last was summoned, which is a ludicrous amount of time for entities such as him, Flint could tell as soon as he took the first lungful of air in that dusty attic, that same humid, putrid smell still clings to it and he believes it must be typical of that whole century: malady, rot and noxious steam. And Humans, they are the same sneaky, greedy, cruel leeches drunk on each other’s blood, craving to suck power from things they don’t even know the name of, almost every one of them.

The last he saw of this plane, before being sent back to his, was filled with blood and wailing, the first he sees when he’s summoned again is just the same. Perpetrated by the same madman, Peter Ashe, no less. Time is a travesty when such shortsighted petty creatures are at the top of the food pyramid. Nothing fucking changed in the great scheme of things. And yet, everything is different after all.

His eyes follow the human he’s now tied to while he rummages through drawers and chests, either looking for clothes, something to steal, or both. He moves easily, talks like nothing has happened, throws him sly grins and languid looks. He’s very good at it, even after such a traumatic event he recovered and shut it all behind thick walls so quickly, but no matter how remarkable it is, how effortlessly he wears the armor he built himself, the Demon can see the cracks in it, they are thin and faint, almost impossible to perceive, but he has them… he will refrain from trying to peek behind them for the time being, though.

Silver isn’t just wearing armor with him, he’s cutting him off completely, Flint can feel it and it’s not only about his understandable fear of him, but he suspects the other is trying to distance himself as much as he can from that hint of trust he had to allow between them earlier.

“I don’t believe I saw the bastards that restrained me among the people you so thoroughly mauled, upstairs” John says, sounding almost carefree “The two that arranged for me to be killed in the ritual” he’s turned and Flint can’t see his expression, but the voice sounds _too_ casual, like he’s trying very hard to hide how he really feels about it “It’s very likely that they weren’t there. The cowardly fucks couldn’t even kill me themselves”

There’s a long moment of silence before Silver throws a glance at him from over his shoulder, shrugs the coat off to place it aside, clearly presenting his naked frame to his eyes, the smooth, bronze skin and the lean muscles, his legs and behind and back, all offered to his gaze and delivered with a determined look on his quite stunning blue eyes “I could use the help of a… friend to reach them”.

To be so blatantly _selling_ himself to make sure he’d be compelled to help in the matter surely speaks volumes on how that man has gone about his survival, or on how he never had something like a ‘friend’. It surely presents Silver like a creature all the more able to rely on himself and save his own life against all odds, but to Flint, it mainly speaks of utter loneliness and unspoken frailty.

The Demon steps into the room and sits on the bed behind him, taking in the sight before him, it’s no secret he’s highly interested in his frankly seductive looks. He strokes his beard thoughtfully, eyes never leaving all that naked skin presented to him “it’s more than feasible” he muses “and for that I wouldn’t ask for a payment, you know”  
“Now” starts John “we both know you’d like it”  
“Of course” he replies “I’m quite fond of your form, really. But you don’t need to use it as currency with me. We’re helping each other out… and if we want to engage in such activities, well, I’m more than eager.”

The man is speechless for a while before a little smile tugs at his lips, it isn’t one of his usual grins, it’s a tiny thing, uncertain, something he probably isn’t used to wear due to words he’s not used to hear. It is gone as quickly as it came and Silver is now busying himself with putting on some clothes “I will take you up on those words, then” he replies “I too am finding you much more enjoyable than I expected. Although it’s probably too early to say so.”

Flint stands up to retrieve his coat, he shrugs it back on and takes in the sight of the human once again while he does the buttons on the shirt “Probably” he admits with a playful little smirk, he’s being a tease and he knows, but he’s already preferring the little huff the other would let out in false annoyance to the uncertainty of being genuinely desired.

Why would he make such an observation about the human is curious and surely needs to be inspected later. Right now he distracts himself by reaching a hand to mindlessly stroke a black curly lock back from the other’s face “We have a target then. Is it revenge that you want?” he asks lowly.  
“As soon as they will find out that I’m not dead, they will become a problem and very likely have another try at it. I’m just being practical.” It’s his reply.  
“You want to show them that you’re not afraid of looking them in the eyes while they die” he punctuates “There’s no use for such pretense.”

When John turns to face him they are incredibly close, just a few inches between them and the tension clearly palpable, he looks somewhat flustered by those words, lips parted around a reply that never comes and the Demon can’t keep from closing the distance, licking into his mouth and sucking on his lower lip, the other giving way and allowing him to taste and claim, head tilting gently beneath the press of his kiss and arms sneaking around his neck. How tempted he is to push him against the dresser and take him right there and then.

He pulls back, instead, licking the sweet taste from his lips, his gaze clearly betraying his desires and causing Silver to chuckle softly “You’re telling me a Demon can resist temptation?” he asks playfully.  
Flint snorts as well “We are the ones bestowing temptation, it would be extremely unbecoming” he replies before begrudgingly pulling back from the gentle heat of the lean body pressed against him “We should retire for the night.”

As much as the young man shrugs and replies “If you say so” he’s still pale and has dark circles around his eyes, the traumatic events of the evening finally catching up on him, it makes him look younger and that staggering frailty peeks from the faint cracks in his façade once more. The Demon wishes he couldn’t notice.

Before leaving, they start a fire to make sure the mansion burns down with the bodies they left behind.

They make their way outside through the back door and quietly slip in the darkness away from the streets, between the trees and the shrubs, just a step away from the ever-growing wild vegetation and all the creatures it hides right beyond the edge of civilization, their voices in the night a constant muffled reminder of their vicinity and their eyes glowing dimly in the dark are a mirror to the Demon’s (upon seeing them the human puts an extra step of distance between them, even though he rushes after him to not be left behind in the darkness).

“Where are we going?” Silver asks in a breathy whisper.  
“I know a safe place. We need somewhere to stay and hide” Flint replies and stops abruptly, the other almost crashes into him while he whips around “We will meet others like me, there” he adds.  
“What? Demons?”  
“Exactly. So don’t wander off once we get there.” He finishes before resuming treading through the shadows.

They step back into the streetlights when they reach a bridge on a canal crossing over to Bywater ward, they head to the outer edges of the inhabited zone where stands a loud big townhouse built in a tacky Greek Revival style and that had seen better days in the past. The original style had been ‘embellished’ with flamboyant colors and voodoo frescoes, lush plants and flowers hung from balconies and windows, filling the air with a sweet smell. Music and lights stream from the open windows. A colorful wooden sign dangles from a post reading ‘Havre de Paix’. Two scantily dressed young women wave and throw kisses from a window on the second floor.

“Is that it?” Silver asks, frowning “It’s a brothel”  
Flint quirks a brow at him “My, you are observant” he deadpans, winning himself a poisonous look from the other that immediately provides “You know, I’m starting to miss the snarling beastly version of you”  
The Demon snorts softly but doesn’t add to it, giving the man a little nod towards the building before marching up to the door and walking in confidently, the human in tow.

On the inside the loud and colorful style is even more evident, the clashing of tastes between revisited Greek and African Creole is so unlikely that it actually works out, and once you go beyond the first slap in the face, it actually grows on you. Despite the late hour, the place is still bustling with customers, girls as well as boys lounge around or beckon to possible patrons, scarcely dressed and smiling sweetly like the honey traps they are.

Flint forgoes the crowded main hall and focuses his attention on a little table in a dimly lit corner, shared by a man and a woman, the former is stroking his lean mustache pensively while piling coins in neat little stacks, his gaudy clothes are even louder when compared to the woman’s black ones and her intimidating presence, her icy eyes fix on them immediately as she stops mid-movement while sharpening a massive knife, the hat she’s wearing throws shadows on her beautiful face but her glare shines brighter than the steel of the blade. The man notices and turns to look at the two of them, recognition dawning on his face when he sees Flint.

“I’ll be damned” he exclaims “How long has it been? Ten years?” he shakes his head and exchanges a look with his companion that is now holding her knife with purpose, ready to lunge at them if they so much as take one too many steps “Who’s the deranged son of a bitch that thought it was a good idea to summon you again?” he presses on, voice carefully neutral but look betraying apprehension.  
“A very dead one” is Flint’s blunt reply “Let’s not waste time with futile pleasantries, shall we?”  
“The fuck you want?” the woman growls lowly, her glowing eyes never leaving him and betraying her true nature.

At least the ‘futile pleasantries’ got actually set aside. He sighs and relaxes his own glare “We need a safe haven” he admits and the couple seems to only now notice the human standing next to him.  
A tense silence falls over them before the other man gives him a little nod “Jack ‘Calico’ Rackham” he introduces himself “And this is my partner, Anne Bonny.”  
“John Silver” he replies “Nice to-”  
“Go away now” Jack interrupts “I’m very sorry for you, but your… associate is most wanted and his mere presence means danger.”

“I don’t believe that is how we do things here, Jack. Is it not?” comes a woman’s voice and makes them all turn towards the staircase. A Creole lady descends the steps and offers her hand to both Silver and Flint “I’m Max” she introduces herself to the former “Nice to meet you”, the French accent is still heavy in her inflection. She smiles sweetly to them before turning to her associates “Of course these gentlemen are welcome, _mes chers._ We are a safe haven, aren’t we?” her manners are kind but she seems to be scolding them both and even if she’s petite, she’s somehow managing to look down on them.

When she turns to James again she looks pained “I’m sorry” and she’s not referring to the manners of those two. Flint shakes his head, he’s not having that conversation nor her pity and she clearly reads how he quickly closes up, so she turns to John that is obviously harboring all kind of questions. A smile finds its way back to her lovely face “Me and my partners offer protection and assistance to _Loa_ as well as humans getting involved with them” she explains. Before being the madam of the brothel, she is a very competent voodoo priestess, after all.

Silver seems positively impressed, even fascinated by the whole concept, it isn’t the cringing travesty the high class stole to make their orgies more picturesque, and he gives the impression of being the type that pays attention whenever useful knowledge is in his proximities.  
“All behind the façade of the brothel” he muses.  
“The more eye-catching the cover, the more it distracts from the contents” she admits “Now, if you will follow me.”

Max guides them through the ground floor, past a long hallway and then up a staircase, that part of the building is less flashy and loud than the rest, rows of doors open on a corridor, suggesting that those must be the rooms she destined to her ‘special’ guests. Anne is following close, unwilling to leave her alone with Flint.

“Are you still offering protection to Vane?” James asks suddenly, not looking at her, impossible to read. The woman studies him briefly and scowls “Of course. So please, try to get along”  
“I have no interest in arguing with him” he reasons “He still has his gang, I figure”  
“That would be correct. And if I didn’t know you I’d say you’re planning something” she replies pointedly before stopping in front of a room “This is you. If you need anything, my people are downstairs.” She resumes, opening the door for them.

The room is tidy and clean, well furnished and it even has its own bathroom. Flint thanks her and Max turns to go, but first she studies him once more “For what it’s worth, you can stay here for as long as you need.” She ends and leaves.

The two of them find themselves alone now. Silver lets out a deep sigh and sits on the bed. It had been a long night, after all, and the sunrise is approaching. “That woman” he starts, leaning back on his elbows “Anne. She’s like you, right?”  
Flint takes his coat and jacket off, undoes his tie and the first buttons on his shirt. Clothes are fucking restraining honestly. He goes to sit on the chair in one corner, only now allowing his body to relax somewhat, when he takes that form it’s easier to be in control of his movements but he has to constantly control his reactions to make sure he’s not… exceeding “She is. Been on this plane for years, like many others. Jack freed her from a deal she was forced into by a frankly despicable man.” He finally replies, voice low.

John is silent for a while, thoughtfully losing some of his own clothes and then climbing into bed “She told me that you’re dangerous. And unpredictable.” He adds then, his voice level, eyes carefully squinting as he tries to make out his expression, but the Demon is sitting in the shadows that obscure his whole face and the human can probably see only his glowing irises.  
James considers his words briefly “I can’t say she’s wrong.” he admits.  
“So Jack and Max decided to start helping creatures like you” Silver continues, stifling a yawn “It’s odd. One just assumes that you are… Evil. I mean, we call you Demons.”  
“It would be the right definition, if you consider the Greek origin as entities in-between worlds. Not inherently evil.” Flint explains “Rest now. We’ll have a lot to do tomorrow.” But as he’s speaking those words, the other has already dozed off.

The only sound filling the room now is the human’s peaceful breath and the lazy sloshing of water from the canal outside the open window. The Demon is left with himself and the turmoil of thoughts and memories that only now he allows to fill his mind. To be forcefully pulled on that plane would be rough already, but Ashe did it all wrong… the carefully laid spells that should have worked as traps made for a messy and painful summoning. He undoubtedly spent the last ten years studying such measures to trap him. Damn fool.

But he had waited for the moment someone would have summoned him again, no matter how many traps were laid for him.

His eyes dart back to the sleeping young man, his breathing not so regular anymore as he stirs and whines, surely reliving the eventful night in his dreams. If Silver hadn’t taken the deal he would be still trapped in a circle inside that damn attic now, with Ashe trying to bend his will, use him. Of course, the spells would have eventually worn off and the Demon would have shown the pitiful bastard what happens when you try to warp the rules. It would have taken years, though.

All in all, John’s presence had been his only way out. Too bad the human is closing himself up completely to him. Too bad Flint had been so full of rage and pain that he killed Peter Ashe without even asking his version of the events from ten years ago.

James huffs in annoyance to himself, it is no good to be left alone with such thoughts.

Another helpless whine from Silver’s lips distracts him and he stands to check on him. As he expected, the human is sweating while a pained frown creases his forehead, body writhing weakly. His black wild curls are scattered on the pillow around his head, the curve of his throat bared. He looks like a sacrifice right now, an offering that pulls at Flint’s consuming greed, memories of the taste of that smooth skin against his tongue are too fresh and the Demon has to tear his eyes away with a soft growl, ready to leave the room and the tormented human sleeping in it.

That trembling, broken voice calls on him again and before he can stop himself, James is bending over the other, lips grazing his ear “Hush now. You’re safe” he whispers softly “The pain is gone and you’re safe” his breath brushes over him. John calms down and plummets into a deep slumber, the whispered words reaching him across his nightmares and sinking directly in his subconscious.

At least for that night, the human will sleep peacefully. A small mercy, really… But not the first the Demon bestows on the other. He bristles at his own realization and leaves the room, scowling.

For a lack of a better destination, Flint finds himself walking along the bank of the small canal, just a little stream that draws water from the Mississippi and eventually finds its way back to it. He focuses on the water creasing softly and glistening from the streetlights, willing himself to calm down. He _knows_ that nothing good comes from him being that unsteady.

Ten years aren’t nearly enough and for a creature like him they feel like a handful of hours so he has to constantly measure each movement and reaction when all he wants is to let his rage burn everything, turn the city to ashes until even the marsh and the river dry up, until he consumes himself in the fire.  
A trembling growl and a punch to the wall are everything he allows himself.

The sun rises two hours later but he has already retired by then. 

His human (and Flint has to stop briefly to wonder since when he calls him _his_ ) doesn’t wake up until the early afternoon with a bewildered expression on his face, clearly realizing the ritual and the deal had been real and not some odd dream. Once he’s functional again, though, he doesn’t waste time before he starts planning the downfall of Hornigold and Dufresne. It positively impresses the Demon.

Their soon to be victims are officers in the city’s militia and their little help with Ashe’s deed surely has something to do with Benjamin Hornigold’s announced promotion (and Dufresne’s in tow, obviously).

In the next couple of days they gather information and it is apparent that the clueless fucks just assumed whoever took part to the ritual died in the subsequent fire, they never really believed it was going to work so they are not looking for Flint and it is actually very convenient for them that Peter Ashe isn’t around anymore to become a problem in the future. It all translates in them feeling confident and victorious, and it only makes sense that Hornigold wants to host a formal dinner party to celebrate. Entrance granted behind invitation.

Personally, Flint is ready to cut to the chase and just barge their way in, but Silver is for a more subtle approach which is why they easily track down someone in the militia that is meant to receive the invitation, some officer of minor importance whose absence wouldn’t be noticed.

‘Subtlety’ ends when Silver advances not on the man, but on the mail carrier supposed to deliver the envelope. He ‘casually’ bumps into him on the street while the Demon has been asked to stand back and let him handle it.

Flint can’t hear what Silver says to the man to convince him to move to the tiny hidden alley, but he can see how he goes on his knees in front of him, a playful smile on his lips, his wide blue eyes look up at him through his lashes while his hands work on the other’s belt with practiced ease.

The middle-aged mail carrier is helpless at first, not sure on how to react, but as soon as those sinful lips close around the head of his cock, he fists on the black curly mane, pulling hard enough to force a whimper from John. And yet, not hard enough to keep him from taking his member all the way to the base, throat swallowing around it and igniting the man. Soon enough the stranger is roughly fucking into his mouth, too distracted to realize Silver is reaching a hand in his bag to snatch the envelope.

John shoots a knowing look towards the shadows in the back of the alley, where he knows the Demon is watching him, as if he could feel the heat of his possessiveness emanating from him. He’s positively provoking with his eyes, lips stretched around some man’s cock as it rams against the back of his throat, but his attention focused on the faint glow of James’ eyes in the darkness, knowing very well what a sight he’s making, kneeling in the dirt while spit dribbles down his chin, Adam’s apple bobbing from swallowing every drop of the man’s release.

The mail carrier pulls back, tucks himself away and even tosses a handful of coins to the other, leaving him there without as much as a goodbye.

Silver is barely back on his feet that Flint is on him, hands fisted in his shirt while he slams the human against the wall, fuelled with greed, outrage and pure unadulterated want, control about to slip away, he can feel the rippling heat running right beneath his skin, threatening to tear it apart, all the words he might have wanted to say come out as a low otherworldly snarl. They are so close there’s not a whole inch between their mouths, eyes fixed in each other’s while the Demon is torn between claiming and restricting, the other between fear and excitement.

“What?” pants Silver, lips grazing teasingly Flint’s “I don’t have to ask permission to a friend, do I?” and James can’t hold back when he snaps and bites on the other’s lower lip, hard enough to break the skin, he shivers at the first taste of blood and his tongue plunges into the man’s mouth, muffling a weak moan halfway between pain and pleasure. His hands tingle as his fingers claw through cloth, all the way to the skin beneath.

Silver grabs on his tense arms, muscles taut and shifting as Flint keeps him pinned to the wall, his body is running hot, pressed against the other while he licks into his mouth, until every trace of that stranger’s taste is erased. His hips grind slowly and their clothed erections rub together forcing them to groan brokenly into their devouring kisses, he nudges his knees apart with one of his legs and the human immediately rolls his hips against his thigh needing more friction.

John’s patience is running thin already and his trembling hands fumble with their trousers as they blindly free their painfully hard cocks, he takes them both in one and starts stroking, squeezing hard enough to force more sounds from them.

Flint growls and moves to kiss and bite on his neck, leaving vicious marks behind, one of his hands joins the other’s, forcing it to speed up and spread precum all over their lengths, the second lets go of the shirt and claws its way down until it slips inside the other’s trousers, squeezes on one of his firm buttocks, a finger pressing on his tight hole, just enough to tease.

The sudden feeling has Silver arching his back from the wall, more sinful moans leaving his mouth while his head tilts back and Flint can’t keep from latching his mouth against the curve of his neck, sharp teeth scraping the skin as their members twitch and pulse with release, making a sticky mess on their hands.

It’s hard to say if they remain in the tight hold of one another for seconds or minutes, just sharing heated breath and drag of skin against skin, far from being satiated, but putting to momentary rest the sudden surge of consuming need.

Flint quietly pulls back to carefully fix their clothes and clean up the mess they made with a handkerchief. The rage might be placated for now, but the scowl isn’t leaving his forehead and even if he realizes how obvious he’s being, he really can’t hide it.  
“You’re playing a dangerous game, human” he grumbles before stepping back and turning away from the other.

Silver huffs a bitter laugh “Is that a threat?” he asks “I don’t recall agreeing on you having exclusive rights over my body” he adds but is left speechless as soon as their eyes meet again.

The Demon wonders what he might have been showing right then, a dark swirl of thoughts crawling in his mind as he exchanges that look with him. Whatever it is, John is silent while they make their way back to the brothel, probably realizing he doesn’t really know that creature, doesn’t know how he thinks or reasons, what he lived through in his past, what are his feelings and how they work. He doesn’t know what he’s really capable of. What will be the price for their deal.

They have a handful of hours left before it’s time to join the event and they use them to get ready, making themselves presentable and defining the last details. They don’t talk about their last exchange in the alley, even though they feel like it showed there is something running between them that they both struggle to fully grasp.

“Tonight” says Silver while changing into new clothes that Max provided for him “We’ll find ourselves in a room filled with soldiers. Since you won’t have me approach the bastards my way.”

It’s a statement, but it implies that the human is rightfully worried at the prospect of openly facing so many when they are just the two of them “I trusted you with finding a way in. You will have to do the same.” He replies, playful smirk curling his lips. The other will have to get used to having a measure of trust in him.

They eventually make their way to the opulent mansion one Benjamin Hornigold calls his home. Their invitation grants them easy access and, once inside, they are confronted with the customary crowd of high class citizens on the prowl for notoriety and scandal, bored and hypocritical and thirsty for ruining their fellows if it means they will profit even slightly from it.

And how easily John Silver spins his stories for them. As soon as the door closed behind them, he wore his armor made of lies and deceit, having all the present convinced that he is whoever he decided to be, he has them hypnotized with his saucy smiles and gazes. He has those he speaks to wrapped around his finger and ready to believe everything he says. Then he prefers to appeal rather than scare, he’d rather seduce than threaten, carve rather than destroy.

Flint can’t help but be fascinated by him, by the opposite he is to the Demon. An opposite that is complementary, in many ways. Suddenly, the thought of the young man selling his body to such scum that would think he’s nothing more than a good fuck sits even worse with James, to imagine that human trash getting played by John while they feel superior and call him whore makes rage spike up in him. He would have very gladly turned the living room into a bloodbath, feeling like every pair of eyes that lays on Silver deserves to be carved out.

Of course, the Demon keeps his composure. That is hardly the moment to unleash his wrath, when their host hasn’t even turned up yet.

The evening proceeds calm and dull as they make sure neither Hornigold nor Dufresne find out too soon that John isn’t dead, they will need them to feel safe until it will be too late and if a bunch of their friends gets involved too then all the better, no one there is innocent.

When the guests are asked to take a seat at the dinner table, Flint stays behind and turns to the two slaves that are meant to serve and care during the dinner. “Once everyone is seated, lock the doors to the dining room, take the other salves and leave” he whispers to their ears and watches as their eyes turn glassy, his words seeping all the way through their minds. He then joins Silver’s side as he sits down at the head of the table.

On the opposite head, Hornigold has just gone silent and rigid, realizing who is the young man smirking devilishly at him across the table, when Dufresne on his right notices too, he stands from his chair. They are pale and terrified and the other guests go silent too when they witness their behavior.  
“You’re supposed to be dead” stutters Hornigold.  
“Sorry to disappoint” replies Silver with a chuckle “You know I’m here for you and your lapdog” he adds, eyes skimming quickly over the other clueless guests “therefore I suggest anyone else refrains from acting recklessly.”

Even if he says so, a man moves to reach for his gun. The Demon is quicker in grabbing on his hand, squeezing painfully until he stops, he leans close to whisper a few soft words to his ear, and when he pulls back, the man quietly draws the gun to aim it at his own head, blowing his brains out without a second thought. Screams and panic rise before James orders them to be quiet, the lights in the room dim to underline his command and fear wins them over as they comply.

Silver leans on the table with his elbows and his smirk only turns more vicious “Indeed, I didn’t die that evening. But I remember you were the ones arranging for it” he says, voice carefree “And you almost succeeded, I’ll have to give you that. You’re not the moron I thought you were, Benjamin. My bad.”  
The aforementioned man glares at him, killing intent clear in his eyes “You want revenge, then”  
“I just want to make sure it won’t happen again” replies John almost innocently “Since you easily dismissed whatever history we may have had.”  
Hornigold grins at that, his expression twisted and ugly “As if I would ever mind the whores that warm my nights” he replies.

It probably isn’t obvious to the others in the room, but the Demon can clearly see the moment the crystal clear blue of Silver’s eyes turns darker, when he closes and hardens, as he would have considered a possibility for forgiveness up until then. They exchange a little look and that’s all the permission he needs.

When Flint moves to stride across the room, slow and measured, he makes sure his human understands he’s showing something to him even though his eyes focus on all the others in the room, all the people he would take out, eventually “Humans gave me many names” he starts, fingers trailing along the chairs lined at the table, the persons sitting in them too afraid to move “I’ve been called Samael, the Cursed and the Seducer” and then he stops to whisper something into a woman’s ear, she starts sobbing before taking a knife in her trembling hands and stabbing it through her husband’s throat.

“I’ve been called Belial, the Wicked and False God. Abaddon, the Destroyer” he stops behind a man dressed in his uniform, his hand trying to reach for the sword at his belt, the Demon stops and wordlessly snaps his neck like it’s a dried-up twig. He then turns to look directly at Hornigold “Some named me Haborym, the Fire Demon” his eyes glow with every word while the air around him trembles with the heat emanating from his body, underlining his line.

“But the last time I was summoned, I was given the name of James Flint. You probably heard of it ten years ago” it sounds like something far less dangerous and yet, he had been feared and rumored nonetheless “Who did you hear it from?” he asks.

The man is sweating, looking between Silver and Flint with fear “Lord Hamilton” he replies either way.  
“The man who paid you and your men to cover up the death of two persons, back then” the Demon adds, his voice straining to not turn into a growl.

“A speck of dust on your otherwise remarkable career. Something our common friend John Silver also discovered, I reckon” he continues, one hand closing around Hornigold’s neck “Where is Lord Hamilton now, I wonder?” he asks. When faced with stubborn silence, a sickening smell of burnt flesh fills the room followed by Hornigold’s scream of pain, his hand burning its imprint on the soft skin “Fine. Who do I have to kill to catch his attention?” he snarls, and when the man finally whispers the names weakly, the demon tightens his hold while flames start erupting from his body and clothes like he spontaneously combusted.

The fire burns and consumes him unnaturally quick, leaving a charred carcass that Flint leaves to drop to the floor, he then stands at the head of the table. There’s a long moment of silence and immobility before he lifts his gaze on everyone else, glowing eyes ablaze with pure contempt while people scramble to their feet, panicked, scattering to reach the doors and finding them locked.

Flint sighs and flames move like tendrils around his whole body, run along the floorboards and devour the screaming, crying crowd. A pile of smoking remains is all that’s left of whoever sat at that table until then and the fire dies as quickly as it appeared. The Demon contemplates his handiwork without any particular emotion showing on his face.

The loud bang of a gunshot is what distracts him and he whips his head to see Dufresne with his gun in hand, pointed at him, although the weapon hasn’t been fired, a disfiguring hole is on his forehead. He sways briefly on his feet and then drops dead. On the other side of the room, Silver is still holding the smoking revolver he took from the body of a guest.

Their eyes meet from across the table and they are wordless and still for a long moment. It’s not easy to read the Human’s expression, too much must be going on in his mind and the Demon is still processing the other just killed a man to protect him, even though a gunshot would have been harmless to him.

But then Silver is climbing on the table and crawling over to him on his four, eyes never leaving the other’s. He looks wild and aroused, pupils blown wide as he approaches like a feral animal. When he’s close enough, he gets pulled by the other into a famished kiss and he falls into it like he draws his very breath from it.

Flint’s whole body is flooded by all the need he tried to control up until that point, he pulls John closer, makes him sit on the table while he pushes himself between his knees, their bodies press together while their hungry mouths swallow needy groans, hands fumbling at each other’s clothes while they don’t care dead bodies are scattered on the ground.

“What the hell was that?” Silver is panting against his neck, nibbling at the freckles while he forces his shirt open as well as his trousers.  
“I let you know something about me” replies the Demon, his voice reversing to its beastly form while his hands slip beneath fabric to squeeze and caress the naked skin “So you can better trust me.”

John moans at the feeling of claws gently scratching along his sides and finally takes his own shirt off, offering more skin to his eyes and lips “Why is it so important?” he breathes while helping the other to take his trousers off.

Flint licks his lips at the sight, forces the human to lay down on the table, naked and sprawled before him like a feast, his fingers curl around those thighs and spread them, his mouth waters and he doesn’t waste much time before pressing his fingers to the other’s opening. He finds the muscles are already soft and loose and he wonders if that was just a precaution the human took because you never know, if he did it for him or if that is just some experiment after what they did to each other in that alley earlier in the afternoon.

Silver doesn’t comment and watches him like he’s testing him, like he’s saying that he can’t trust if he’s not trusted in return and he’s once again surprising the Demon.

James decides to accept that. He pulls his fingers out to replace them with his member, his movements less furious now while he thrusts in him, slow enough that he feels every inch of it and he can watch the other coming apart beneath him, clinging to him with his arms around his neck, his thighs squeezing around his waist.

“Because you want to” Flint finally replies, pushing some strands of black hair away from his face almost gently, to better look at his bewildered expression. He can’t keep from kissing his lips again, this time with the care of a lover, while his hips now start moving. The feeling of his hot welcoming insides forces broken growls and moans from him as he reaches slow and deep.

They grind against one another, the both of them trying to make the other go out of his mind with heat and pleasure, and they enjoy the torturous dance while their gazes and mouths won’t part.

Then the Demon shifts and grabs on the human’s hips, angling them as he sees fit, he starts fucking in him with purpose, aiming for his sweet spot with every stroke of his cock, enjoying the absolute wreck he makes of Silver with every bolt of raw pleasure that spreads through him, his voice is squeezed without control while his gorgeous body arches like a wave… He straightens enough to get a good view of it all.

He barely registers his own pleasure at the moment, too distracted by every reaction he can cause in the other, he could spend eternity like that, giving that man every ounce of attention he deserves. And he secretly longs for.

“B-before” John stutters between moans “You told those people… _fuck_ … You told them to do what you wanted?” his half-lidded eyes search for the Demon’s while he speaks.  
“I told them what _they_ wanted to do” Flint replies, his hands now grabbing on the other’s and pinning them against the table.  
“ _Jesus fucking Christ_ ” Silver pants, helplessly surrendering to him and arching one last time against him while he comes, shooting across his stomach and chest, and then riding every forceful thrust still sending unforgiving pangs of overwhelming heat along his nerves.

James dutifully fucks his human through his orgasm, reveling in the sensation of his sensitive insides twitching around him, the sounds he’s squeezing from the other are pure sin and it doesn’t take too long before he tips over as well, spilling inside him and pulling him into more open-mouthed kisses.

“You have some kind of unfinished business” says Silver hoarsely after the Demon has pulled out of his body, but they still are clinging to each other “From ten years ago”.  
Flint exhales deeply and nods “Yes. I came back to settle it” he admits and he’s about to tell the other he doesn’t have to get involved in all that, but John is looking at him deadly serious “I want to help you”.

The Demon is left speechless for some second “Thank you” he whispers, making that the third human he ever thanked in his whole existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loa: common Voodoo term for ‘Demon’ in use in Haiti and Louisiana.
> 
>  **Disclaimer! I have no deep knowledge of Voodoo or Demonology, so I'm sorry if I messed up or misused anything.**  
>  If you'd like to have more footnotes or information about anything I put in this chapter, please let me know, I'll share whatever knowledge I have collected :3 Also, feel free to correct me if I was inaccurate anywhere.
> 
> Once again, kudos and my deepest thanks for having read all the way through <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you so afraid of?” he asks relentlessly, his voice much more cautious now.  
> “Of something I shouldn’t ever do.” [...] “And it is for your sake”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Billy hates Flint in this too, I'm sorry.  
> Musical recommendations for this chapter: 1-["Pyre"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AcDDc3JUJU) by Son Lux 2-["Devil Like You"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIESL7sIXTg) by Gareth Dunlop
> 
> **Read the tags carefully!**

**III.**

John Silver has always considered himself an extremely adaptive man, he adapted to whatever turn his life took, even when he found himself involved into dark rituals and making a deal with a Demon… but to live with said Demon? He feels like that’s something you just can’t adapt to and he means that in the most positive way.

It’s a continue twist and turn when you don’t know what that creature is capable of, or when he seems to develop some strange attachment to you, or when without using any kind of power he has you completely bewitched. Of course, there’s a great deal of utter terror that comes with him and Silver hasn’t feared this much anything else in his life. Nor he felt such twisted arousal.

On the other hand, he’s baffled by how human Flint is at times, how he moves effortlessly, how easy his body language is, he even has tics, expressions and reactions that, not only make him seem perfectly human, but they make him a painfully attractive one. One that he would want to know and get close to, which is already concerning, when he thinks about it.

All that being said, he couldn’t be prepared for James Flint and Charles Vane discussing. Where _discussing_ means they are snarling at each other like the rabid beasts they are, muscles tensing and rippling, veins throbbing in their necks and foreheads, eyes glinting, claws and fangs showing as their true forms peek from underneath, ready to pounce at one another.

And if Flint so enraged that his human features get disfigured by his beastly form is frightening already, an equally struggling Vane doing the same while they both growl like bloodhounds is just too much.

It’s the day after he and Flint claimed Hornigold and Dufresne’s lives. After they rested (or at least John did, since he has yet to see the other sleep), he inquired about their next moves since he wanted to help the Demon tie his loose ends. James said they would have needed extra help from then on, that he was to ask Charles Vane and that’s how they met with him and his gang of freed demons.

But while Flint wore his person-suit almost perfectly, Vane seemed to be tight in his own skin, like some wild animal making an impression of a human being. He generally could have passed as a very dangerous man, if you ignored how all his movements seemed to be aimed at killing, until you looked at his pale, glacial eyes. They were thin slits of pure ice in his sharp and angular face, so clear and cold they almost seemed to glow even when he wasn’t standing in the shadows. His mere presence made the temperature in the room drop.

Silver wouldn’t have asked any of those Demons a thing, personally, but even if he did, he would have never approached them like James did. As much as the human knows he can be a brazen bastard when he wants, he never saw anyone ask for help with such hubris.

It had been kind of amusing, actually. That until they started arguing, then everyone was too scared or too attached to their own life to step between them.

“You wanted us civilized” grunts Vane, barely controlling his voice “Now you want to burn them all?”  
“Not now. It’s a decade that I’m planning that” Flint replies, not even hiding his annoyance at the other’s argument “Things change.”

And that’s how they now find themselves transfixed by the display of unaltered violence the two are offering, it’s almost fascinating once you’re done shitting yourself.

“I don’t like you. You don’t like me. Why would I trust you?” snarls Vane as they are standing dangerously close, only a few inches between them as they are ready to jump at each other’s throat.  
“I’m asking for your help” Flint growls in reply “Not your trust”  
“I’m not really keen on risking my men’s lives for your revenge” Charles continues.

As much as Flint seems the one more in control of his body, he surely isn’t of his temper, because he bares his teeth at him and fists his shirt, ready to slam him against some surface “Damn you, Vane” he barks “And damn me for caring about you.”

At those words, Vane mirrors his gesture, squinty eyes going even thinner and colder “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks, low, scratchy voice going even deeper.

Surprisingly enough, Flint is the first to loosen his hold and recede “It concerns you. My next target.” He sighs, eyes skimming over the other members of the gang, the ones he wanted out of the room but Charles wouldn’t have it, saying that his brothers were going to hear it all.

“It’s Eleanor” James ends finally “It’s her and her husband, Woodes Rogers. They are involved and if I hope to lure Alfred Hamilton here, I have to take them down.”  
Silence lands heavily on everyone in the room. Vane shakes his head, a range of emotions runs quickly over his face, he takes a step back from the other “Am I supposed to believe you care what I might think or feel about it?” he says, but his voice is now a whisper.  
“You know I wouldn’t lie about this” Flint adds quietly.

Silver wishes he knew the meaning of those words and it stings more than he’s willing to admit, to realize that the Demon hasn’t told him everything about his past. He wants to know and longs for it greedily, even though he knows that’s completely unfair on his part. It also feels a bit like jealousy and that’s another thought he doesn’t want to deal with.

“She still holds a deal with you” Flint presses on, more cautious now “Max was able to make it ineffective, but you know it still binds you. That you will never be really free until you sever it.” and that’s the moment he finally reaches across to the other Demon “In the end, we wanted the same thing for those that summoned us.”

Charles seems to consider his words, even though it is obvious he’s already convinced, he exhales and finally extends his hand to James “You will not instruct my men, though” he clarifies.  
Flint snorts and quirks a brow “I shall hope that they will be already instructed by you.” He retorts. 

Those two demons are like fire and ice and it is somewhat baffling to see them be so open and respect each other after they had been about to lash out earlier. But now that John is presented with them pushing aside every past animosity for the sake of something bigger, he has to admit it feels somehow wholesome, reassuring even, and he finds himself smiling at the success. He seems to be the only one though, because the three members of Vane’s gang look like their leader had just been sentenced to death.

Even if he wants to address the matter, they are all interrupted by Jack and Anne returning from their recon of the city streets, to assess what’s the situation after Hornigold’s murder. The man is speechless for a second as he sees Vane and Flint didn’t kill each other, nor they torn the whole place down and that’s already quite a surprise. When he’s about to speak he is interrupted by Max that steps forward to splash some drops of a weird concoction right in his face.

Rackham closes his eyes and sighs, looking utterly done, with such practiced ease that all the act must be a daily occurrence.  
“You are cleansed now” Max says with a nod and a serious look on her face, she corks the little bottle in her hands and steps aside “Please continue”.

Jack sighs once again, very deeply “She says I need protection since I’m just human… and far too sensitive to negative energies” he tries to explain while everyone in the room is looking at him. He shifts and clears his voice “Don’t you dare comment” he utters, embarrassed, taking some second to regain his dignity “As I was about to say, the militia is in disarray, they are accusing the slaves of the slaughter, but are in such chaos that they can’t organize search parties. As much as Hornigold was an old bastard, he was what kept the town’s militia together. Things are to our advantage.” He explains before arching an eyebrow at Vane and Flint “Now Charles, why would we even consider what he’s proposing?”

That’s another curious alliance, Silver reasons, the one between Jack and Charles, but apparently he and Anne were the ones that introduced Vane to Max and helped him to get back on his feet when he reached the bottom after the human he had a deal with, this Eleanor woman, tossed him aside. It’s baffling to realize Rackham is so close with two extremely unapproachable demons while he himself is probably more inoffensive than John.

“Eleanor is involved” replies Vane “Hornigold told him.”  
Jack turns to Flint, frowning “Hornigold _told_ you.” He repeats, disbelief obvious in his voice.  
A devilish dangerous smirk is James’ only reply to that.  
“How did you get him to tell you?” Rackham presses on.  
“I asked.” Flint replies with disarming simplicity.  
“Define ‘asked’.” The other inquires, skeptic expression now turning into a worried one.  
Once again, Flint only smirks, even more feral than before, and the message must get across because Jack swallows loudly and drops the subject. Possibly forever.

Flint, Vane, Rackham and Max move to a side of the room to discuss, surely to plan the next attack, but Silver figures they will arrange another deal for Charles, since he needs it to take his human form. No one explained that much to him, but John deduced from what the Demon told him after their first encounter.

He’s also deducing other things on his own as well as asking Max whenever he has a chance, because it’s damn amazing to be discussing trust with a Demon, but he’s _discussing trust with a Demon_. To know how things work seems like the very least.

So he’s content to stay in the back and just observe all those Demons and try to understand the most he can. Until he’s approached by Vane’s gang and only now he looks at them properly. There are three of them and they are all tall and muscular, two of them look incredibly wild, with long beards and hair, the taller is black-haired while the other is ginger and has a vicious jagged scar on one eye. The third looks in his twenties and has a shaven face, short sandy hair.

They introduce themselves as Edward Teach, Israel Hands and Billy Bones respectively. Silver greets back and takes a little step back because no matter how you look at them, they are imposing and scary enough. At least the two older men, Billy has something so young to him that makes it easier to not be afraid. John is no fool, though, and knows better than anyone else that looks can be deceiving.

And it is indeed Billy that first talks “You are the human that made a deal with Flint” he states and Silver nods “I don’t know how things are between you but you better be very careful.”  
“Everyone keeps telling me. And yet that’s all they ever say.” He replies with a smile to conceal his slight annoyance.

“If I was you” starts Hands “I’d pay my debt and be done with him right now. Forget the bastard altogether.” And his eyes are ruthless like the steel of his blade, you only need a glance to understand he would have been capable of any monstrosity, but not gratuitously.  
“Says a demon that already knows how all this works” replies Silver before he can stop himself and is met with a glare that could have stripped his skin from the bones.  
“I’m human” he grunts “And a fool that made a deal with this idiot here. Ages ago.” he gestures to Teach that just gives him a little smirk.

That he hadn’t expected in the least. First of all because he looks more dangerous than the other two, secondly he hadn’t expected humans to side with Demons to free them. But after all Silver himself is siding with them and wants to help Flint. Isn’t that what he told the other? He can’t even think of an excuse for speaking those words other than he actually cares.

John clears his throat “Fair enough” he mumbles “But it’s not as easy as that, so…”  
“But that’s the point, right? Why hasn’t he collected his payment yet?” interrupts Billy and he seems really fired up “He wants to keep you as a liability. Like all of us. We’re all expendable to him or just means to an end. You are no exception.”

The first reaction Silver would have is to bristle and tell him to go fuck himself, but there’s the catch… Even those three know something about Flint that he doesn’t and he can’t resist the temptation of _knowing_. So he forces the irritation away and instead lets his doubts peek through, hoping the other will buy the act of the poor, clueless human.

Maybe he does or maybe he just wants to turn whoever he can against Flint, but Billy is ready to spill right away “Firstly he never cared about other Demons, and still doesn’t. After being summoned the last time, more were summoned and forced into deals only because humans thought that they could win themselves something like him. I don’t know how were those who summoned him, but after he bent to them everyone else who knew thought they could do the same.”  
“That’s hardly his fault, though” Silver provides.  
“Maybe, but he didn’t do a thing to stop it. Of course, you might not really care about all this, but he won’t tell anyone what exactly happened ten years ago and it sounds to me like he’s hiding something, right?”

Billy is riling himself up, more than glad to find someone that wants to listen to all his conspiracy “He’s dangerous, unpredictable and won’t state his intentions clearly. He offered you a deal only to be free to pursue his revenge.”  
At that Silver shrugs “And I’ve taken it only to save my life, I wasn’t looking for anything deeper.”  
“Then, now that you both held your end of the bargain, why won’t he collect his payment?” the other presses on, relentless “I don’t know what that is, every Demon has their own after all, but I can see only two possible answers… he either wants to prevent you from walking away from the deal, or his payment will be your death.”

Those words make Silver flinch, the mere thought is simply… too painful and leaves him speechless while Billy strikes the last blow “After all, who knows what happened to whoever summoned him ten years ago? Who tells you he didn’t kill them? You’d better send him back while you still have the chance.”  
“You’re telling me to exorcise him? Or whatever it is that throws you back to where you came?” John asks, evermore bewildered with the whole exchange.

Billy shrugs “You’re the only one that can have power over him, if only you wanted” he states before turning to leave “I’d give it some thought.” He ends and exits the room.  
Hands makes a disapproving noise “that boy is too tragic.” He grumbles “But it true that death and destruction follow Flint like faithful bitches.”  
Teach pats the other’s shoulder and gives them both a subtle smirk “Billy has just been freed and is still too angry to be reasoned with” he explains to Silver before turning to Israel “And what you now think of Flint, you thought of me as well… and yet, here we are.”

There’s something in the brief look the two men exchange, something that goes deeper than deals and alliances. It’s nameless and meaningful… and Silver would call it ‘total complicity’, the same thing that needs no words and one can see between people that have been tied to one another for so long they went past every other fleeting emotion. Hands’ lips twitch slightly, the closest he can get to smiling, and shakes his head “And look where it got me” he grumbles before leaving as well, Teach in tow with one last little smirk to John.

Silver is left with more questions than before and if he’s to wonder what could be the reason for the Demon to keep him around, well… his mind can’t help but go to the darkest places, because there’s no way he might want him around just because. If he has any worth to his eyes, it must be whatever he can do for him.

But he won’t let Billy’s words be the final judges, he needs proof and one he gained himself. Of course, asking directly the Demon is out of the question because here’s the catch: John Silver is too damn prideful and he will consider true or of any value only what he finds out himself.

To make use of the city militia being in disarray, they decide to strike fast, planning the next attack for the following night. Honestly, Silver is quite nervous, as much as he said he’d be helping Flint, what’s he supposed to do? He’s not a fighter. Also, he suspects that if he proposed to find a way in to be their inside man through his usual methods, it would make the Demon furious. And since when he cares about that? It’s not like they’re _lovers_ , right? It would be absurd…

He gets distracted from his own thoughts when Flint sits beside him, he and Vane must be done discussing the details of their plan. They are alone, sitting at a table in a corner next to a big open window facing the canal, the moon is full and high in the sky, music and voices are a muffled background that drifts from the other end of the hallway.

“Nervous?” asks the Demon.  
Silver can only nod with a deep sigh “I can’t really see what difference would it make if I am there with you while you settle your score” he admits, eyes quickly darting to the view outside the window, his own words too honest for his liking.  
The other makes his usual soft huff, the same he makes in his beastly form too and that John is starting to get fond of “Why do you think I was able to manifest my powers so effectively when we attacked Hornigold?” he asks and that piece of information is extremely interesting.

Silver turns to look at him and straightens in his seat, very aware of those words and the way the Demon is looking at him, like the other can see he’s eaten up by worry and doubt “Really? Does it make it easier to be close to your contractor?”  
James shrugs “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Every one of my kind has influence over something, over one particular faculty, let’s say… we draw power from it and act on it in return. If the main source is close we are more powerful in the execution.” He explains and it is logical, indeed.

Silver thinks about what the Demon had done, trying to puzzle together what could his field be, he remembers how he merely whispered a few words to those people and had them doing what ‘they wanted to do’, he said. “It’s will, your faculty” he exclaims “That’s why I needed to believe that you could take the pain away, the night of the deal.”

Flint arches his eyebrows in surprise but a corner of his lips curls in a little, proud grin that has John’s legs melt a little, to be honest “That’s correct.” He quietly confirms.

But such a notion makes him even more of a hazard because it would be a problem if he got hurt. And he still isn’t a fighter “Well, then. That means my helplessness is all the more problematic.” He grumbles, almost more to himself than the other.  
“I can teach you to defend yourself. If you want.” James proposes, suddenly.  
It takes him so much by surprise that he has to make a double-take “I’m not physically gifted like you” he protests and the Demon rolls his eyes so dramatically he could get blinded from it “With weapons, I meant. Like Humans do.”  
“What, like fencing? Are you any good?”  
“I’m _very_ good.”

At that Silver can’t help but smile, there’s something incredibly compelling to the idea that the Demon spent the time to learn, not how to crudely kill someone with a blade, but a whole art that he wouldn’t have needed. He used his time to study and spar, perhaps enjoyed it even, developed an _interest_ in something so humanlike.  
“I would like that very much” he admits, still smiling, and it probably is somewhat flirtatious. But also genuine, which feels a bit weird. The realization is enough to make the smile falter and slip away from his lips.

More baffling is to see that the Demon is suddenly closing up too, expression turning neutral and unreadable, making it all terribly confusing for John, because it would mean that he hadn’t been the only one feeling like he was showing his side too much. Or it might just mean that the other is deceiving him, pretending, just reacting to what he is carelessly revealing.

It’s a deviant dance and they are both too stubborn and too prideful to concede and show any weakness. Maybe because they both can’t trust anyone else that is not themselves.

“What the hell are we doing?” he whispers, shaking his head and he honestly doesn’t know if he’s referring to the messages they both seem to send one another or the violent turn they both took as soon as they realized their vulnerability.

A muscle twitches in Flint’s jaw, like he’s angry or frustrated, more layers of armor are laid between them “There is no _we_ ” his words heavy as lead.

Silver hates that it hurts so much to hear such a thing and he doesn’t even know why “Right. This is just business. Nothing more” even his voice sounds foreign to him as it was meant to hold spite while it only seems to be laced with barely conceited hurt “If I think that I did and am ready to do things that I’m terrified of…” it’s an admission and as he allows it to himself, he finally gets a good glimpse of what the other is trying to hide.

The outraged expression and the twitching of the muscles in his jaw, the way his whole body just went rigid… that’s not rage “You are scared” Silver presses, careful stare never leaving the Demon’s eyes and face, picking every little detail “What are you so afraid of?” he asks relentlessly, his voice much more cautious now.  
“Of something I shouldn’t ever do.” Flint snaps “And it is for your sake” as soon as the words are out he presses his lips together and stands up, dropping the subject and closing definitively up before leaving the room.

John is left alone with his thoughts and even more confused emotions now. What the fuck does that mean? Why would the Demon not do something for his sake? It makes him downright furious, he has no right to decide something like that on his own. He has no right to treat him like he’s too vulnerable or fragile… Inferior.

It is so damn vexing and painful that he grits his teeth and closes his eyes against the thought, his emotions scattered all over and he can’t even say what they are exactly, he doesn’t know the first thing about any of that, but God… he actually believed they at least considered one another equal.

Stupid. Stupid and naïve. 

And even more so if he considers that he wishes to change it, that he cares enough about whatever thing they are sloppily sharing that he wants to be seen as equal, instead of using it to his advantage as he usually does.

He’s so upset that he doesn’t retire to their room, instead finds himself a small sofa in the part of the building that doesn’t belong to the brothel and sleeps there. The next day he tries his best to not show anything of what he’s going through right now, but it doesn’t really matter, since Flint is literally fire and brimstone with everyone. More than usual.

Yes, genius move to upset one another before moving with a gang of demons (and a human) to attack the Rogers’ mansion that will surely be full of guards. But it is what it is and they don’t really have time to discuss before they head out to join Teach and Hands that have been patrolling the mansion during the day to make sure the Rogers would be home.

The mansion is in the outskirts, surrounded by farmed fields worked by slaves during the day, patrolled by Rogers’ own men during the night and that stand as their main obstacle to get in. The men are mostly former thugs or soldiers of the militia, their captain a despicable cutthroat and veteran of the Mexican-American war that goes by the name of Berringer.

The ground to cover is a lot, but most of the guards are standing close to the main building and when Teach and Hands charge them frontally, the ruckus disrupts the lines already and forces some of the lookouts scattered in the fields to retreat. Even if the men aren’t many, it still is impressive to see those two handle them so easily and mercilessly, both Hands and Teach make use of such brute force that you completely forget one of them is actually human, also, they move and fight together in perfect harmony, as if they could read each other’s thoughts.

Behind the distraction, Vane and Anne with Jack, being the fastest, are to scatter and bypass the whole property along the perimeter, taking care of the men on the fields and making sure that Charles can infiltrate the mansion from the back. With the cover of the night, both Demons turn into their beastly forms. Anne starts running and while she does her frame effortlessly shifts in that of a fierce red mare, her face a horse skull in whose orbits her cold blue eyes shine like metal, she slows down enough to allow Jack to mount her and then speeds up again. Vane turns mid-jump while he starts in the opposite direction, his body shifting in a much more brutal way, shedding his skin to reveal black fur covering a massive, wiry form with long claws, the sharp, frothing jaws of a wolf, four pairs of icy, glowing eyes and his breath visible as if the temperature suddenly dropped below zero.

Billy and Flint, along with Silver that is to never leave his Demon’s side, are left to charge frontally through the door, but as soon as they do they find Berringer with five of his best men barricading in the main hall. Upon the first impact, the two Demons kill three of the men, while the other three take cover and call for reinforcements from inside the mansion.

The three attackers take cover as well, needing to make the point of the whole situation, it is clear that the Rogers had been expecting them and that most of the guards are deployed inside the building, as it is obvious that Vane is going to face an impressive number of enemies on his own.

Flint curses under his breath while he pulls another man over the barricade, wrestles briefly with him until he manages to wrap his arm around the other’s neck and squeezes the life out of him, gunshots hitting him from time to time even though he seems to completely ignore them “The Rogers must have an escape route” he growls and turns to Billy that is slamming a man’s head against a column, blood and speckles of brain and skull splatter on the white plaster.  
“I’ll keep them busy, you go and try to intercept the Rogers” James orders over the shots and the yells, still dismissing whatever wound is opening in his body.

“Like Hell” replies Billy and yes, they probably should have seen that coming “I’m not taking orders from you” he adds, stubbornly “You go if you want. I will help Vane from this side of the front.”  
The glare of utter _fury_ Flint throws him is probably more deadly than the viselike hold he’s using to crush some guard’s arm like its bones are sticks “These men are here to kill me, if I go they will all pursue me and attack my rear. We’re here to get to Eleanor and her husband, what do you think Vane would order you if he were here?!” he snarls and is probably fighting with himself to not jump on Billy. He turns his rage towards the last of the men standing behind the barricade, forcing his own mounted bayonet through his throat and pushing him away so hard that he flies to the other end of the room.

The defenders are receding to reorganize while the three of them are too busy bickering instead of pursuing them or the Rogers and it’s just stupid.  
“You only care about your goal, you’re going to let Vane act as a distraction as soon as the possibility will arise.” Billy sentences “I will make sure that doesn’t happen.” 

“Then I will go pursue the Rogers” Silver suddenly proposes and both Demons finally shut up “You keep fighting, I will find them and… come up with some idea to stop them”  
“Are you insane? You can’t go” splutters Flint.

John’s stare turns cold, his voice cruel while he asserts “Because I’m still too useful to you, I reckon” and those words leave the Demon speechless, maybe even perplexed, and he feels a twisted, ugly satisfaction when he delivers the final blow “But if you want Billy to go I know how he can be reassured. I _order_ you to break through and get to Berringer.” He surely doesn’t have the occult knowledge, but that much he understands: it’s all about will and intention.

The unexpected turn seems to be to Billy’s liking, he gives Silver a little nod and finally goes to locate the escape route, while the soldiers seem to ignore him in favor of regrouping and pushing forward again.

But when John turns to Flint he’s not prepared for the look of utter betrayal he sees on his face, there’s no blinding rage or baffled disappointment, both of which he had expected, there’s only heartbreaking hurt and it makes all the outrage he still felt fly right out of the window.

The Demon wipes it all off as quickly as he can while he stands from the crouching position he was in.  
“Very well” he mutters and tosses his now tattered coat to the floor, quietly rolls the shirt sleeves to the elbow.  
“What are you doing?” gasps Silver.  
“What you ordered?” the other replies.  
John gapes at him briefly before he stutters “Are you going to _fight_ your way in?”

And now the anger finds its way to the Demon’s face while he glares and snarls “What the fuck did you think was going to happen?!” his voice coming out full-on demonic.  
“I thought you were going to use your powers.” The human admits, feeling even worse now.

Flint turns his back on him “I’m not that kind of demon. In case you didn’t notice.” He inhales deeply, gunshots already exploding around him “At least stay back and don’t get involved.” He ends without even looking at him before he launches himself against the guards, taking even them by surprise.

It is safe to assume that the Demon is venting all his frustration and rage on the men that he faces, his perfectly controlled movements are as effective and deadly as the brutal mauling he did of Ashe in his beastly form and it’s not clear why he won’t transform, but it doesn’t make that much of a difference. It is purely tremendous to see a man wreak such havoc on his own, no one escapes him as he relentlessly breaks bones and tears flesh, uses other men as shields, and wields their own weapons against them. He’s clean, sharp, and silent, perfectly in control, and it really is scarier than witnessing a raging beast do the same.

It is also baffling to see gunshots and stabbing wounds rain on the Demon without stopping him. Only now Silver realizes he never asked to any of the Demons what happens when they get hurt or how much damage they can take before suffering the consequences, but they have physical bodies which means they suffer physical injuries, they might take much more damage before being affected, but they too surely have a breaking point.

It still has to be reached now and yet it is physically aching to see someone get wounded so much, spill all that blood, and keep going mindless of what should be maddening pain.

By the time he finally reaches Berringer, the men have either died or fled and he faces the Demon alone, armed with a knife, his gun discarded since it ran out of bullets. Flint is covered in blood, green eyes blazing furiously against the red, a reminder to his creature-like form, and closing in on him relentlessly.

No matter how many lives Berringer claimed or how many atrocities he committed, if he didn’t even flinch at the sight of death and slaughter, he’s now realizing his employer left him to die, that he tricked him and whatever is that _thing_ in front of him, it will end his life here and now and he’s terrified. It’s obvious in his frantic gaze and the way his lips quiver. Still, he tries to fight back, to go down swinging, because he has nothing left.

Flint, on the other hand, shows no emotion whatsoever while he easily dodges the first slashes of the man’s knife, when the next finally reaches him, he allows the blade to cut across his chest and uses Berringer’s momentum to knock him back with a punch to his face, blood immediately erupting from his broken nose. Once he stumbles to the floor, the Demon quietly paces around to grab on his hair, pull his head back and bare his neck.

They both are facing towards Silver now, that is still taking cover behind the improvised barricade, he can perfectly see Beringer’s terror and resignation as well as the dark, bursting turmoil in Flint’s gaze before the Demon uses the man’s own knife to cut his throat open. He then exhales deeply, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and closes his eyes while flames violently erupt around him, burning Berringer’s body and everything around them in two meters radius.

Then silence falls over them, deafening after the clamor of battle… it almost sounds eerie, like everything else just stopped existing and there’s only the soft crackling of flames as they gradually die out, the heavy panting of the Demon and Silver’s own gasping breath as he’s left to digest what he just witnessed. And their eyes locking across the room, above the sickening carnage.

The stasis breaks when Teach bursts through the doors to tell them Vane captured the Rogers “I’m sorry” he tells Flint while they make their way outside, to the dark woods around the property “Woodes Rogers was fighting back, we took him down during the skirmish.” And it’s almost comical how humbled his stern face just became.  
James nods and shrugs “The important thing is that he’s dead. I’m not here to take pleasure in his death.” He replies and now won’t look at Silver or let out any kind of emotion, like he burnt them all in the fire earlier.

Once they reach the others, Eleanor is squirming, trying to free herself from Vane’s hold, Anne and Jack look fine while he cleans his cutlass and she simply leans against a tree, a silent guardian over her human, Billy is on the side and looks somewhat mortified… they can only hope Charles chastised him for his stubbornness. Hands is nowhere to be seen, very likely hunting down any fugitive. All the Demons are in their human form now.

Flint and Vane exchange a meaningful look before the latter shoots a glare at Billy “It won’t happen again” he growls “We almost risked to lose the targets.”  
James nods “Luckily you foresaw their escape attempt as well” he says, trying to not sound too complimentary.  
Charles snorts “And luckily I made use of you taking on their men to chase after these two” he blatantly admits, revealing how similar their reasoning had been and causing Flint to chuckle bitterly, but he doesn’t comment further, probably too exhausted to start an argument with Billy about it.

Teach, Anne and Jack are instructed to free the slaves of the plantation and to help them contact Max if they so wish, since she can help them disappear. Billy is to join Hands before they can retire as well.

Only the two of them are left with Charles and Eleanor. The woman is protesting and fighting back still, in a most unbecoming way for a lady, really. And all her fury seems to be directed at Vane that on his part is looking terribly human right now, frail almost, and it’s so unsetting the way his eyes lay on the blond woman feels almost too intimate, like the usually bone-chilling Demon is silently coming apart at the seams just from being close to her. Silver wonders if she doesn’t realize or if she’s just willingly ignoring it all. Whatever the case, John almost feels compelled to look away, like he’s spying on such an intimate side of Charles that he has no right to know.

When he turns to Flint he sees recognition in his eyes, like he perfectly knows what the other Demon is feeling and going through. They seem to have a silent exchange before James turns “This is yours” he mutters “It’s up to you to decide how to end all this. Woodes Rogers’ death is more than enough to catch Alfred Hamilton’s attention.” He makes to leave and stops one last time to add “And discipline your men.” Only now a hint of ire tinges his voice.  
“You try to not be a damn fool instead.” Replies Charles. John wants to know to what he exactly refers to, but is probably going to be faced by Flint’s closure now that he betrayed his trust.

They leave Vane and the woman behind, whatever exchange they are having in the pale moonlight is theirs only, while they silently return to the brothel. They will never really know what happened between them, if Vane killed Eleanor or if he let her go in the end. They will never ask and the Demon will never tell, not in the following days, not ever. 

The walk back happens in a blur, Silver can’t really remember anything, like he’s in a trance, far too distracted by his own thoughts and all the things he wants to say to the Demon. First of all how sorry he is for having knowingly given him an order. And then he will probably just crumble like a house of cards, nerves shattering between all that happened that night and how riled up he got up until that point.

As soon as the door to their room closes behind them, Flint, that until then had walked and talked and acted as effortlessly as always, with his usual flawless posture, plummets to his knees and flops aside, leaning against the wall, like someone just cut his strings. Whatever thing he had been about to say, Silver forgets it to launch himself to his side.

The Demon is breathing with difficulty and suddenly looks like he had been drained of all his strength, which probably means that he’s suffering the blow of the battles more than he let on. John is literally panicking because he surely doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do to help him, aside from pulling him to his feet and making him sit on the bed.

“I only need to rest” Flint says and finally looks him in the eyes for the first time since they left the Rogers’ mansion, the hurt is still there, obvious and loud, but he’s studying him just as much, trying to read his reactions and emotions. At least they both are helpless fools, it would seem.

Silver carefully helps with taking off the bloody and torn shirt, all the wounds the Demon collected are either turning into faint bruises or cuts and holes that don’t bleed anymore despite being open. The human sighs and shakes his head “It’s my fault” he admits softly and the other doesn’t reply for a while as he softly traces along the open injuries with gentle fingers.

“It’s not” Flint says finally with a soft exhale “you effectively prevented the situation from freezing. I had been too presumptuous to not suggest that kind of solution in the first place.” He’s being practical. But also awfully quiet about it all. Pair it with that exhaustion and suddenly Silver is extremely worried.  
“I betrayed your trust” he says, unable to keep looking at his eyes and busying himself with helping to get rid of all the stained, ruined clothes he still wore.  
“Yes. As I forced myself on you the night of the deal.” James continues “We’re not blameless.” The little, shy smile the Demon offers makes his heart flutter.

And the surely deliberate use of ‘we’ makes it even worse. John is a bit overwhelmed and the other seems to respect it, remaining quiet and still so that the human can keep touching his skin with gentle care. It’s a damn aberration that someone had left such signs on that beautiful, perfect, freckly body, especially because he had yet to appreciate it without any clothes on. It is delightful to see all those freckles cover the whole skin.

“Fair enough. But I somehow failed to notice your abilities are extremely physical” Silver supplies after a while, his stomach still turning at the memory of all those blows landing on the other, blows that would have been deadly for a human. How did it escape him that every time the Demon had used his powers he had been either really close or touching his victims?

“Honestly I would have probably done the same in your place” Flint admits with such a soft voice John almost doesn’t hear him “I dismissed your need to understand more of… All this. Pulled you along in battle and still haven’t told you anything.” He sighs tiredly and John wonders if he’s so meek because of all the damage he took.

Silver sits down in front of him, head leaning softly against one of his legs “Alright then.” He huffs “Vane asking you to not be a damn fool. Let’s start with that” he looks up at him and smiles coyly.  
The Demon blinks in mild surprise and nods “Basically, it’s my own fault if I ended up this battered” he starts “I’m not using my capacities at their fullest. My bond with this plane is weaker because I still haven’t collected your payment.”  
“My attention has been brought to that.” John punctuates.  
“It doesn’t surprise me. Billy, I reckon.” James infers, placing one hand over Silver’s head and gently stroking his hair, almost absentmindedly, fingers combing through the black curls “I didn’t wish to ask for it until the very end. I still won’t be asking, as long as we are bound to fight battles I won’t collect.”

Once again, his reasoning made sense “The payment would be a part of me?” John asks, voice trembling with worry, but he’s not moving away from their warm contact.  
The hand caressing his hair falters briefly before resuming “Yes. Nothing you can’t live without, of course.” replies Flint quietly and he goes silent for a while. Probably to leave time to the human to digest the notion.

“The other demons find me different from them” he goes on before shifting on the bed and gently pulling Silver along. The human stops only to shed his own clothes and then joins the other until they are sitting together with their backs against the headboard, shoulders touching. His fingers are back to tangle in the other’s hair immediately “When I was summoned, ten years ago, I… fell in love with the humans that made a deal with me.” The words are soft and trembling but weight like concrete “I guess me and Vane share this much.” He adds, explaining why the two seem to have such good understanding. Once they’re done trying to kill one another.

If Silver puts all the pieces together, it’s not hard to deduce what happened to those humans ten years ago and how all their endeavor concerns avenging their deaths. And it stings more than he would admit how he feels somewhat jealous of those people, as petty and wrong as it is.

“Miranda and Thomas never asked for something from me” the Demon continues “They summoned me driven by pure interest and curiosity, always treated me like their equal. And even if it should have been wrong, what we felt for one another was the purest emotion I ever came across.” To be loved and accepted for what he was and not for what he could do for them surely must have been mind-blowing.  
“As we spent time together and they tried to comprehend me, I found myself trying to figure out what meant to be human. I reached a point where I wished… I could just toss my nature away and become like them.” the revelation is heavy even for him as he speaks, eyes distant while he remembers the overwhelming sensations “Human. Mortal. With a beginning and an end.”

Flint sighs and shakes his head, trying to push away the very idea “It was silly of me and it only made me suffer worse when they died and I...” he stops himself before finishing and grimaces at his own words.  
The implication is painful enough, but it gets even more painful when John thinks that that humankind the Demon envied was the same that took his beloved from this world and wanted to enslave him to use his powers… While other demons shamed him for his disposition towards humanity.

For the first time, Silver realizes just how utterly alone the Demon is, caught in between two worlds that rejected and betrayed him. There’s no place he can call his own, it was taken away from him. It’s just heartbreaking and he’s not sure how the other can even deal with all that without breaking, no matter if the Demon tries to act like he’s heartless, it’s more than obvious that it’s not true.  
“Alfred Hamilton was the one who killed them?” he asks, voice thin, feeling evermore not enough, undeserving of those words and of him.

Flint closes his eyes briefly, maybe to steady himself “Thomas’ own father” he growls, the hand that isn’t tenderly caressing John’s hair closes into a fist, knuckles turning white “Even though I can’t shake off the feeling that what really killed them was my existence.” He adds in a whisper.

That’s simply unacceptable, Silver sits up and forces the Demon to look in his eyes “It wasn’t.” he states, with such determination he surprises even himself, also because he has really no idea what he is doing anyway, he never was so close with anyone but he wants to make it better “I’m sure Miranda and Thomas would find this incredibly insulting.”

James allows a little smirk to grace his lips and it’s already enough to pull on John’s heartstrings “Yes. That sounds like them.” he admits while his otherworldly green eyes run over the young man’s face, like he’s committing all the details to memory, quietly shortening the distance between them, his hot breath grazing John’s skin.

“I never replied properly to your question” Flint whispers, their lips softly brushing against each other.  
“Which one?” inquires Silver, voice faint as if a louder sound could shatter everything around them.  
The Demon inches closer, their bodies pressing together “The one about what is it that I’m afraid of.” He closes the distance even more and, before John can add anything, they are kissing, slow and measured, so different from their previous attempts at conquering each other’s mouth, consuming and greedy. That is terribly intimate and painfully unknown to at least one of them.

“I fear the consequence of getting _that_ close to a human again” James finishes, speaking the words against his skin and it takes far too long for Silver to catch up on the meaning, still completely dazed from the kiss, but when he finally does he pulls back suddenly, his face flushing red and hot while he blinks at the other at a loss for words for longer than he’d like to admit.

Even Flint frowns in worry when he’s still silent after a handful of seconds.

John clears his throat, suspecting his voice would come out trembling and pathetic “It can’t be.” He states and his voice hasn’t really improved. All the anger and envy and jealousy he had been piling up despite his best intentions and against his own will, too weak to really stop it from happening, they all fade away, melt out of him, and even that part of him that kept repeating how hopelessly worthless and unredeemable he is has turned silent.

How broken has he to actually be to mistake _protection_ for _belittling_? Granted, the Demon might have been clumsy at stating his intentions, but the truth is he had no real reason to think that way.  
“I’m not… I don’t deserve any of this” he stutters, fighting against the stinging of tears in his eyes.

The Demon won’t let him continue because his mouth is on him again, forcing Silver to swallow the words about to be spoken, forcing back the knot in his throat and the crippling frustration, the blinding fear. He knows what the other is asking of him, what Flint is finally doing too: strip himself bare and for once trust someone enough to see who he really is, trust the being that is breathing life into him now and that has picked him up when he reached the deepest bottom. That James is to him. That he is to James.

There’s no more talking while Flint pushes him down and mouths at his skin, covers in kisses his neck, chest and face, hands gently caressing instead of clawing and grabbing, tracing soft paths along his sides and hips, hot breath ghosting over his throat and ear before he sinks his face in the wild sea of his curls.

And Silver yields to his tender touch, body shifting to welcome his sweet weight, arms and legs clinging to the solid heat of his waist and shoulders, revels in the sensation of skin against skin, soft sounds escape his mouth as shivers wreck his whole body, his own skin feels oversensitive and stretch so tight over the spiraling mess he feels writhing inside his chest.

They kiss and lick and press together slowly, their hands reach to take hold of each other’s leaking members, stroking and squeezing and gently coaxing, pulling them close and then pushing it back until they are about to go out of their own minds and the sticky mess of precum is dribbling lower, Flint’s blunt fingers are spreading it over the other’s entrance, tearing a soft hiss from him when they breach the tight ring of muscles.

The digits push in, firm and unhurried, spreading and scissoring, already enough to have John pushing his hips against it, quivering moans falling from his lips whenever they part from the other’s. His insides welcoming and twitching, getting used to the intrusion quickly enough and forcing him to beg the Demon to stop before he comes from that alone.

The Demon apparently appreciates judging from how quickly he replaces those fingers with his cock and thrusts in right away. They both groan and pant, stretching that moment to let every sensation sink in, to revel in the unabated intimacy of that connection.

It all crashes down when Flint moves, stirring the deepest part of the young man’s body with every precise thrust of his hips, each and every one of them aimed at spreading blazing pleasure along his nerves, until he’s a writhing, sobbing mess beneath him. Only then the Demon picks up speed and purpose, muscles tensing as he forces his own pleasure back and not even once his control falters or slips, completely focused on proving Silver wrong in his certainty that he’s not worthy of all that.

John can’t do anything different than give up and accept all that smothering affection that has him arching from the bed and moaning the other’s name, hands fisting in the sheets above his head while he comes and every last ounce of pleasure is squeezed from him until it becomes almost painful, and he can’t get enough of it if it means seeing James ramming in him one last time, spilling hotly inside, pupils blown wide while he bites on his lower lip to stifle a growl that sounds like John’s name.

When they close their eyes and slip beneath the covers, they are still entwined into their embrace, bodies pressed together mindless of the mess they made of one another, and Silver takes some time to watch how Flint falls asleep like that, peaceful expression softening his handsome face. He thinks he can get used to the sight. And it wouldn’t be bad if that becomes what he sees every night before dozing off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's one lengthy chapter, a lot happens. I fucking drew a map to plan the maneuvers of the action scene and I'm still afraid it's too chaotic to understand ;w;  
> But, kudos once again for getting to the end of this too <3 you're amazing!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever measure of control Silver could have gathered is now shattering under the onslaught of pure terror because the creature in front of him wants his blood [...]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Here we are... It's the end (well, plus the epilogue actually). I don't know if I'm ready. I mean, I already miss all this wtf. Well, I can only hope you will like the finale and give the usual recommendations for music, once again, it's two: [Until the Levee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JcX7bJQZLL4) by Joy Williams, and [I Will Never Die](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ieUQxZQXrg) by Delta Rae.  
> All this being said, enjoy :D
> 
> **Read the tags carefully!**

**IV.  
  
**

After the eventful night and all the damage he took, Flint sank in a deep dreamless slumber, allowing his body to recover more or less completely. He couldn’t say how long he had slept, but the sunlight is fully filling the room by the time he stirs and comes back to his senses. His whole body is tingling in a pleasing way, especially in his lower half which is… curious?

As his mind and body slowly catch up and awake, he realizes there’s something hot pressed against him and the ‘tingling sensation’ is actually full-on pleasure. His eyes flutter open and when he looks down on himself, he finds Silver between his legs, contentedly sucking on his cock like it is the single best thing he ever tasted, lips stretched around the length as he takes it all the way to the base and hollowing his cheeks while he pulls back to flash a grin at him.

“Good Morning” he simply says, like it’s the most natural thing. That human runs too fast for his still numbed mind that cleverly provides a very eloquent “Uh.”  
Flawless.

The Demon would have very gladly slapped himself at that pathetic reaction, but John seems to understand it perfectly, instead, because his smile widens “I was cleaning ourselves from the mess we made last night, taking care of you” while he speaks his hand has taken the place of his mouth “Apparently I was a bit too… passionate about it?” he chuckles in a way that is both indecent and lovely. Then his eyes trail down along the other’s body until they focus on the member he’s still slowly and relentlessly stroking.

Silver licks his lips “The other day in the alley” he whispers “With that man… The only thing I could think about were your eyes on me. I wished I had you in my mouth… Wanted you to desire me just as much.”  
His words ghost over the Demon’s skin but they’re enough to make him groan. Then John is back on him with his lips, nibbling and licking teasingly along the shaft until he swallows him whole again.

The sight is downright sinful and Flint sinks his fingers in the wild mess of black curls falling over Silver’s shoulders and bouncing deliciously every time he moves his head. He can’t take his eyes away from him, even when the man skillfully works the throat around his cock, the hot wet squeeze enough to make him go out of his mind, but he’d be damned if he loses even one second of the gorgeous perfect sight.

His hips hitch once before he can help himself, unable to stay still, but John lets out a needy sound and goes down on him even deeper, eyes locking with his and practically _begging_ for him to fuck his mouth and James is more than happy to oblige, hands keeping the other still while still buried among those perfect locks, he rolls his hips, careful but going until he hits the back of his throat with every thrust and they both moan from it.

It is difficult to force himself to stop, but Flint can’t hold the burning need he’s feeling, he wants more and especially, he wants to give more to his human who is already missing his hard flesh on his tongue. So the Demon manhandles him, throws him to lie on his back and he’s immediately on him and everywhere with his tongue and his hands, sucking his way across the smooth chest, his teeth scraping over sensitive nipples and pressing broken whines from his throat. His hands take hold of those narrow hips and pull them up, angle them so that he can reach the other’s hole, tongue plunging right in while his fingers spread the cheeks, the muscles still somewhat soft from the previous night.

Silver yelps at the sudden turn of events, but it soon turns into pleased mewls as he melts beneath the attentions, shameless and absolutely wonderful “F-fuck! Your tongue…” he pants and Flint would smirk if he wasn’t otherwise occupied with tasting his insides. And if his tongue can make use of some inhuman features why wouldn’t he take advantage of that?

John squirms in his hold, unable to move while he can feel that tongue reach deeper than it would be possible and he’s immediately reminded of how the Demon had done the same to his organs and entrails when he was healed the night of the ritual. And just like then, the hot appendage spreads tingling warmth and pleasure through his very flesh.

Precum is dripping down Silver’s toned stomach and he’s gone boneless by then, making it even easier for Flint to pull back and maneuver him back down, only to lift him from the sheets and press him close to straddle his lap, erection rubbing against the delicious curve of his ass. Those painfully beautiful blue eyes have darkened with desire and won’t let go of his own gaze, like they are hypnotizing one another, they remain fixed while John reaches behind himself to efficiently guide his cock to his entrance. He doesn’t waste time before he’s taking it fully, calling his name with such a sultry voice, arms clinging to his neck and lips grazing the Demon’s with every breath and word.

Flint winds his own arms around the other’s waist and pulls them even closer together, hot breath mingling with his, a hand running up his back to tangle in his curls again and to keep him there, foreheads gently touching and mouths catching one another with kisses, moans and hushed words.

And then Silver is moving, fucking himself on his Demon’s member, fluid and sensual, his hands take fistfuls of red strands to gently pull and angle his head just right for his tongue to better sink into that searing hot mouth, swallowing every soft growl and broken moan leaving it. His quivering insides part and envelop around the pulsing firmness of his member, they are just as needy as his embrace, as demanding as his kisses, as warm as his heart.

He wants it all. He takes and takes and takes. He’s starved, Flint can see it behind every movement and look. Silver is starved for the connection, for the feeling of belonging, for all those things he dares not to ask: affection, respect, care… love. It’s so plain and simple, and yet that void in him had always left him feeling frail and vulnerable, so he tried to fill it with anything and buried that need deep inside himself. But if the Demon is going to make one good thing on this plane, that will be to make sure John Silver won’t feel that crippling hunger ever again.

And never once the Human asked him, demanded for him to fill that void which makes him even more precious, lovable, worthy. There’s something disarmingly painful into realizing that everything he does, the way he acts, it all is lined with that helpless and forgotten need: his wit and deceit, his lies and pride, the walls he built and the easy, cheap way he would sell his own body. It all is the distorted, warped echo of his cry for _love._

Flint buries his face in the other’s neck, kissing and nibbling his skin, tasting his sweat and pulse pounding just beneath. The Demon then thrusts up to meet his hips halfway and sends him arching his back, baring his throat, offering his form to him. James lays him down to better watch the delightful ravishing he’s making of him while he can more easily ram in his body, the voluptuous arch of his waist and neck, smooth skin glistening with sweat, luscious perfect curls splaying on the sheets. He looks like he just fell out a Botticelli’s painting.

Silver reaches a hand to caress the other’s face, pulls him close to kiss and lick in his mouth, needy and urgent “p-please” he breathes against his lips, just to be cut off by more shaky moans.  
Flint slows his pace down “What is it?” he whispers, so gently that it surprises even himself.  
“Let me see… your other form too” the human presses out “please.”

Shivers wreck the Demon’s body because he avoided showing himself for a number of reasons. First because he feels _raw_ and exposed, like a nerve, it is overwhelming. But also because he actually minds what the Human thinks of him, if he sees him as the monster that forced itself on his body, that could break men like ice… the monster that one day would consume some part of him just to honor their deal. If he scares the other. If he appears in the nightmares that seem to still haunt John. If he’s the villain in the man’s story.

It is stupid to be so concerned, probably. But he does and did since their first encounter. That’s why to be asked like that leaves him speechless and thinking furiously, so much so that Silver chuckles breathlessly, his hand gently scraping along the other’s scalp “Please” he repeats “I… need to _see_ you.”

Flint can’t deny such a request now, not if his Human needs it as the proof that he trusts him. So the Demon exhales deeply, their bodies are still entwined into one another while he closes his eyes and lets go of his form, muscles rippling beneath his skin while they shift and change along his bones, a relief that he had almost forgotten washes over him, as if he’d been holding his breath without realizing until then. But he’s soon distracted by John gasping beneath him, eyes widening from the sight before he bites on his lower lip, whole body trembling and shifting from the feeling of him getting bigger inside him. The intensity hits Flint fully, the bodily sensations suddenly heightened.

James huffs a hot breath, every inch of their bodies that is touching is like hands reaching inside him to squeeze on the fibers of his nerves, his own hands itch to touch and claw only to be able to feel the other all the way down, to burrow inside his skin and dissolve in his blood to be pumped by his very heart. It is so visceral he has to close his eyes and summon every ounce of control because he _longs_ for the other in a way that isn’t just possession, it’s an ache that pulls on his insides and cuts the breath from him, something he had been able to hide behind everything else as long as he had the filter of his human form, mind racing to come up with whatever excuse he might have needed. But there’s no such thing when he strips away everything.

It’s intense and abysmal, he recognizes it and it terrifies him. But he can’t lie anymore, not to himself nor to the Human. He _is_ fire and yet it scorches through him and the only thing that pulls him out of his own feelings is the touch of those hands, now so little in comparison, while they run along his jaw, fingers tangling in the red fur and then moving to his horns, to the flowing mane along his nape. They are kind just as the eyes returning his glowing gaze “You’re also this” the Human whispers, mouth nibbling gently along his lipless jaws, unafraid “I’m not scared. I trust you.”

That’s just too much, it is a confession and it’s too late for either of them to disentangle from one another. It’s too late for trying to not fall for the human. It probably had been too late for quite some time now.

Those three words have the Demon let out a weak growl while he nuzzles gently to his neck and ear, the closest he can get to kissing in this form, his hips start moving again, picking a controlled pace, careful of his Human that is writhing beneath him, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s reaching so deep inside him it must be straddling the line between pleasure and pain, but he’s also constantly rubbing against his sweet spot and it drives him crazy, unable to articulate while he moans and clings to him helplessly.

It’s only when Flint calls his name with his demon voice that Silver comes with a half-shout, hips lifting from the bed, hands tugging on the Demon’s red mane, insides twitching. The brain-melting pleasure drawn out as the other keeps fucking in him, just slightly more frantic, but prolonging the overwhelming, maddening rapture, turning it into something almost torturous as he chases his own release until he tips over as well, cock thrusting in again and again until it throbs and spills, making a mess of him.

The Demon doesn’t allow himself to fall on the other, he carefully slips out of him, the sensation making them both shiver, and quietly lies next to him, body already shifting back to his human form. They are covered in sweat and bodily fluids, panting and disheveled. But they naturally fall between each other’s arms without a word or any hesitation, chests heaving, skin touching.

Flint can’t stop placing the softest kisses all over John’s face and head, amidst his hair, hands caressing his back and nape while he keeps his Human close to him, mind scrambling to realize how much he actually wished to be accepted for what he is by him.

“Your final confrontation is upon us” says Silver “Assuming we won’t end up dead, what will you do after?” he keeps his eyes carefully lowered while he speaks, as if afraid to actually find out what the Demon might think. Flint huffs a little laugh “I hadn’t planned that far ahead.”  
“You expect to not come out alive from all this.” The Human’s voice doesn’t waver and now he’s looking straight in his eyes.  
“I probably expected that, yes. Even wanted it at first.” He had been so consumed by hate and need for revenge that he felt like he’d become one with it, once fulfilled, what would have been the purpose to his existence? An existence that already brought enough pain as it was. He figured he could let go of it all and just… disappear. “But I’m finding what I really want has changed.” Saying it out loud somehow makes it more real.

The words cause John’s face to light up as he makes himself comfortable on the other’s chest “What is it, then?” he asks with a soft smile.  
“This. Whatever this is. I don’t want to give it up.” The Demon replies, completely honest and it baffles even him how quickly and quietly their relation crawled beneath his skin.  
Silver shakes his head in disbelief, still struggling to accept that anyone might want just him “I could never be enough.” He whispers.

James sighs and pulls him into a slow deep kiss, trying to melt all that insecurity away “Trust me” he whispers against his lips, as if reminding him of the words they just exchanged and fully meaning it as a love confession, since they seem too stupidly afraid to say the exact words. The kiss deepens, tongues licking along each other, taking that leap of faith together, falling and falling until he can burn all the self-loathing and doubts, at least for one day. But he wants to be there to burn it again every time his Human needs it.

The Demon presses him down gently and quietly shifts until he’s straddling his hips, looking into Silver’s eyes, into the stormy blue, the color of the ocean, that have him in their spell… Always had him.  
“If you will have me” Flint adds in a gentle whisper, smirk dancing across his lips before John wipes it off with more desperate kisses that leave them somewhat breathless “Yes. Yes, I… Yes.” He stutters, smile honest and genuine, not falling off as soon as it sees the light and absolutely adorable.

When he sits up, towering over the man, Silver’s gaze moves across the body before him, clearly distracted, his hands reach to touch and explore the muscles in his chest and stomach, along his sides and moving down his strong thighs where they rest. The human licks his lips before grinning devilishly, fingers digging softly in the firm flesh and muscles “Can I ask you a question?” he starts, the other nods “Honestly. Have you ever choked anyone with your thighs?”   
At that the Demon can’t help but laugh, it comes out naturally and makes him double over, forehead resting against the other’s. How long had it been since he actually laughed in amusement?

“That’s an odd question” Flint says, breathless from laughing, but enjoying his new position where he can look at his eyes from even closer.  
Silver chuckles as well, as if absolutely delighted by the reaction he caused “Well, if I could choose how to die I think it would be that.” He admits, underlining his words by squeezing on his thighs again.

James smirks smugly at that and pulls the other along to flip their positions, legs clutching firmly around his hips, a hand buries in the wild tangle of hair to pull Silver closer, lips grazing provocatively against his ear before he whispers “Yes, I have” finally replying to his question. 

John groans at that and clashes their mouths together, immediately fired up, hands scrambling all over his body while they slide against one another and moan softly in it.  
“Come on” the Demon growls in their kiss, urgent and sharp and obvious about his request.  
Silver would want to protest but finds himself compelled to obey such an order right away. So he licks his own palm to slick himself up somewhat, all the while never breaking eye-contact. The warm atmosphere has quickly shifted and they are wild now, greedy and feral, while his human wastes no time to line up and thrust in him.

They both moan, needy, and don’t hesitate before falling into a steady, sharp rhythm. It’s rough and wild, mouths biting and sucking marks on each other, trying to muffle the uncontrolled sounds they are letting out. The Demon arches from the bed, a delighted tempting smirk curls his lips while he looks up at the other, green eyes glinting, almost challenging. John fucks in him with more purpose, stirred by such an obvious provocation, and enjoying the hoarse grunt he presses from him, made more perfect by the disheveled sight he makes, love-bites scattered all over his pale skin, amidst the freckles.

It’s rushed and dirty and they go at it like beasts until Flint tightens his legs around him, hard enough to lock the human in place and that’s all it takes for them to come practically at the same time, sweaty foreheads pressed together, hands buried in each other’s hair to keep them close, lips and tongues grazing while they pant.

Silver gently lies beside him, their limbs still tangled together “I didn’t even prepare you” he mumbles, blushing a bit and looking away in guilt.  
Flint snorts “What’s the use for an almost invulnerable body then?” he replies, snuggling against him.  
“It’s not an excuse!” the other quips, jokingly affronted “One of these days I will take things slowly and do it properly, I want to take care of you. Spend all day in bed and explore.” He purrs, a lazy, cheeky smile spreading on his lips, despite his gaze being somewhat wistful. They both know the next battle they will face could be the last.  
Flint kisses him again, slow and deep, burning away any fear “Promise?” he whispers.  
“Promise.”

Wouldn’t it be lovely for them to have such a moment of peace already? To make that the day they spend exploring and knowing each other through their bodies and hearts? To assess the depth of the confessions they just brought to one another?

But the looming threat of the approaching confrontation demands that they crawl out of that bed, make themselves presentable, let time flow again as they leave those four safe walls. There’s planning to be done, the two of them and Vane’s gang have to come up with different schemes to be ready to face Alfred Hamilton, depending on how he decides to turn up to settle the score.

Luckily enough, Lord Hamilton (a self-given title, by the way) is famous enough to make people talk about him and the trip he’s planning to the city. Some questioning around the streets, some carefully placed spy, some right question posed to the right person, and they have a date and also are able to find out the bastard is traveling down the Mississippi river on his personal steamboat.

It will be more difficult to attack, admittedly, but it’s more easily controlled once taken. With all its pros and cons, they already considered he would have chosen that mean of transportation. Which of course doesn’t mean the group of demons is particularly happy to go along with any of the plans, the only thing that keeps them from walking away from it is Charles Vane, hell-bent on honoring his side of the alliance.

But it’s not only that, he’s feeling committed to the mission now, as if inspired by Flint and the way he lashed back at those that played with him, took away everything he ever had. Not by hiding in the shadows and pretending to not exist, but by waging fire and war on them. Vane finds himself agreeing with him, those power-hungry men won’t stop once they will enslave him. How long before subcontracting the powers of one Demon won’t be enough? When more men will be lured like Hornigold and Woodes Rogers? If Lord Hamilton succeeds now with him, he will soon turn the whole enterprise into another form of slavery and all of them will be in danger. Charles won’t allow the son of a bitch to get his hands on such a powerful Demon as Flint. To rise against and kill him will send a powerful message instead. That’s why he won’t be listening to any complaint, ready to fiercely stand against any of his men.

Honestly, Flint hadn’t expected such companionship with Vane, makes him wonder how different things could have been if they put aside their general dislike of one another much sooner. Not that would change much at this point, but the possibilities are noteworthy.

It takes two more days for them to define every detail of the attack, hoping that the odds would be in their favor, and for Hamilton to make his appearance, his luxury steamboat sailing down the great river. It dropped anchor before entering the city, out in the wilderness. They had expected that move, the man is probably playing the part of the hunter, confident to lure out Flint but probably not knowing about all the other demons.

The massive steamboat looms from the middle of the river, her lights reflect in the black water, like stars about to plummet in the current, the whole bulky ship seems a floating fortress, the machines in her belly at rest. It’s the only light source for miles, the city is behind them with its warm glow, around them there’s the darkness of the trees and plants, the muddy soil turning into marshland, the only sounds are the gentle lapping of the water and the animals hiding in the shadows.

Outside the confines of the city, with the cover of the night, the demons can shed any pretense of humanity, their eyes glowing dangerously, teeth baring and shapes changing. There in the dark they seem a pack of wolves and Silver gets to see Teach and Billy in their Demon forms, turning even more hulking, the former stretching while his body covers in black fur and black flowing mane around his lion-head, crimson horns protruding just above his two pairs of eyes; the latter gives his whole body a shake, muscles swelling beneath his leathery skin, hooves stomping impatiently on the ground as he takes the appearance of a minotaur like the one from the myths. There’s no Demon that keeps its human form, clearly ready to attack with their whole powers.

To make an esteem of how many men could be on the boat is not easy, but she can store lots of people and surely Lord Hamilton must have bought as many men as he could afford, so to strike them down brutally since the beginning is key.

They are about to plunge in the water to climb their way on the boat when they hear rustling in the shrubs around them and it doesn’t sound like animals. Could it be the old bastard sent someone to land before they arrived? The moment of stillness before the ambush is unleashed on them seems to stretch for eternity, everyone tensing and holding their breaths, aware of each other’s presence. And then the group of men attacks, they are sloppy but extremely aggressive and more than taking them by surprise, they rely on their number to scatter and divide the group. Some of the men start burning grass and shrubs, to further divide them and to light up the field.

Each Demon can take on many of the attackers, but their aim is clearly that of keeping their group parted. They keep attacking with a blind fury, not caring if their mates get killed, apparently deprived of fear… those aren’t Lord Hamilton’s men and they don’t even come from the steamboat. They must have reached that shore by land, long before the ship even arrived, to carefully spy the group and their moves, to study the terrain and lay out the best tricks to fight them or keep them busy long enough to grant Alfred Hamilton all the time he might need to make his move. Most of the Demons recognize the distinctive strategy… But would have never imagined that wild card could ally with their target.

As realization dawns on at least Teach, Vane and Flint, a quick, slick silhouette emerges from the murky water of a patch of marsh, big dark body glistening in the dim light of the fires. It moves too quickly to be clearly seen and when it jumps out from hiding, it uses the momentum to slam into Flint, taking him down with it as they start wrestling, their beastly bodies are more or less the same size, but the thing from the swamp has a misshapen body, covered with slimy grayish skin, it almost looks like some kind of giant deformed salamander, its huge grinning mouth full of sharp crooked teeth. The creature is wrapping its seemingly boneless body around the Demon, trying to subdue him, biting on his neck.

When those horrendous fangs dig into Flint’s flesh he lets out a vicious growl, but his limbs start to give way. Silver is already trying to get to them, not caring that there isn’t a lot he can do, he just has to stop the creature in any way, try anything… When he’s close enough, he realizes the slimy creature is looking right at him, the dim light is enough to see that one of its eyes is pearly white and probably blind, many scars around the orbit seem to confirm that. It won’t let go of James, the liquid dripping from its jaws makes the human think that monster is probably injecting some kind of venom in the other. The look they exchange is clear enough, the ugly thing wants him to follow them away from the battle. He wonders how the other knows he’s Flint’s human, but it’s probably something Demons can sense. Also, among the humans that are present, he’s the only one staying so close to Flint.

Of course, the idea of following them is ludicrous and stupid enough as it is. It’s suicidal, even. But everyone is fighting and John can very well see now that the men sent from that mysterious monster are _deliberately_ avoiding him and throwing themselves at everyone else, Demons (and Jack and Hands) too busy fighting to realize what is happening. And even if he manages to reach any of them, what then? There’s only one person there foolish enough to risk his own life for Flint and that’s him.

Silver squares his shoulders and takes a deep sigh, he’s terrified at the idea of being alone against that wretched thing, knows very well he doesn’t have a chance. But he’s not abandoning his Demon. Also, he might be able to buy just enough time for someone to realize what happened or to stall long enough for Flint himself to fight back and get the upper hand.

And like that, he’s running to catch up with the ugly thing, which he reckons must be some Demon, even though it slithered away in the shadows, taking Flint with him, and now he’s in pitch-black darkness as he runs through the dense vegetation which is already a terribly bad idea on a regular day. He could stumble on anything and break his damn leg, he could fall in a pond, get eaten by an alligator or bitten by a snake or he could just stop coming up with scenarios because he _knows_ how idiotic his pursuing is. He fucking knows, but against every logic, he keeps going. Because his Demon is in danger and he won’t let them have him. Because if it’s not him, no one else is going to help him. Because if the fucker that took him really wants John, he has a chance to bargain for his life and if he can save him, then he’s ready to…

He’s panicking. And he can’t afford that, he has to think straight and find traces, because the creature is quicker than him even when it pulls another body along. Another fact he deduces is that the disgusting being is playing with him, sometimes allowing him to see glimpses of its shape, or making sounds to lure and confuse him. But Silver hasn’t turned into a complete idiot, yet. He might pursue after a Demon that had been quick enough to subdue even Flint, with zero possibilities to accomplish anything that isn’t getting himself killed, but he’s keeping track of the path he’s following, leaving marks behind to signal which way he came. It’s official, the creature is toying around with him, making him run in circles and at least twenty minutes must have passed by then.

There is a pattern to the route the other is forcing him into, and at that point John assumes the creature must have taken Flint somewhere because it should be too tired to still drag him around. If that’s the case, he focuses on the surroundings instead of the thing. It’s logical to presume it wouldn’t tread too far from its hostage and that it would have somewhere to keep him, some kind of structure to contain him in case he would come to his senses or at least to transport him to Lord Hamilton.

Even without a slithering bloodthirsty lizard-demon hiding out there, those woods are terrifying. Wild and intricate, ready to swallow you without leaving a trace. It almost feels like the trees themselves have eyes and mouths that breathe, the ground has a heartbeat, the darkness has long hands perpetually reaching.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the low growling voice makes Silver literally jump and yelp, but he’s soon sighing in relief when he turns to see Vane has found him, probably following his scent.  
“Something took Flint” John explains like it’s obvious and deliberately ignoring the fact that he wouldn’t be doing a lot on his own “Weren’t you with the others? How’s the battle going?”  
“They are reorganizing and waiting for me to return. The attackers are all dead.” he replies with a snuffling growl “I saw what happened and ran after you as soon as I could” indeed the Demon’s claws and jaws are covered in fresh blood.

Silver shifts on the spot “I… didn’t think you would notice” he admits, a bit uneasily.  
Vane snorts while they start moving again, much more carefully now that he is not panicking on his own “I have four pairs of eyes, I shall hope they would be useful from time to time”.  
The human chuckles, that must be the first time he ever heard Charles Vane make a joke. It has him wondering if he’s doing it for the sake of his mental health “What the hell is that thing anyway?”

At that question, Vane stops and forces him to look up in his glacial eyes “It’s a Demon. A despicable bastard that goes by the name of Ned Low” he explains “But he’s different. He’s a hired assassin that kills and usually cannibalizes his own kind. No one expected Hamilton to hire him, he’s out of control.” Charles’ jaws snap around the words, the mere thought is enough to fuel his anger. His pointy ears quiver, as if he’s picking sounds in the distance “Listen to me. You stay away from Low. I’ll go keep him busy, you try to find Flint.” He grunts in his rumbling voice, muscles shifting beneath the dark fur “Don’t do anything reckless. And watch out for the traps Low set around.” He adds before turning and sprinting, strong paws sinking in the muddy soil at every stride.

And just like that, Silver is alone again and the dread is silently rising back in him, more controlled than before, but still relentless and inevitable. It’s quite absurd how he had lived his whole life on his own, and now a meager handful of days are enough to make him revaluate it all. At least, now that Vane is somewhere out there, targeting the repelling Demon, he can focus only on finding Flint.

His careful treading through the vegetation gives him time to calm the whirling turmoil of his heart and mind, to tune down the voice that keeps screaming that he should just turn and run and run, run his whole life, that nothing is valuable enough to lose his life over, that he hasn’t and won’t ever have such a thing worthy of sacrificing himself for, because he doesn’t deserve it. That ugly, distorted voice that has always been inside him and that he doesn’t want anymore, because it isn’t true, because he might still be of no real worth, but he’s capable of devotion and selflessness, he still has something good in him. His Demon made him find out, the one that kept saving him in so many ways and now it’s his turn.

The gentle rustling of the leaves and the stars peeking from the black sky, the rhythmic lulling sound of water in the distance… It almost is turning into something reassuring, steadying him in his steps as he reaches a small clearing, his eyes are trying to adapt to the dark, but he can make out shapes that look like manmade objects: some tents, maybe crates on one side, pallets scattered on the ground. On the opposite side from him he can see something that looks like a big cage, a silhouette is occupying it and, if his deductions had been accurate, that should be Flint.

As soon as Silver takes a step in the clearing, the thing in the cage stirs with a pained grunt, three pairs of glowing green eyes appear in the pitch-black darkness and immediately lock on him, he could have recognized those eyes everywhere, the flickering flame that floats between his horns weakly turns on and sheds a little trembling circle of light over the Demon’s face. He does not look pleased.

There’s something off about Flint, his eyes on him are menacing, he’s baring his fangs and foaming at the mouth while a low growl comes from his throat, muscles tensing as if he’s preparing to pounce on him, claws scraping on the floor of the cage as he paces along the constricting space. Only then John realizes the door hasn’t been latched and it gets pushed open by the Demon with a long excruciating squeak. He’s breathing heavily while he moves on his four, growl turning into a snarl, his gaze is the one of a predator eyeing its helpless prey.

Whatever measure of control Silver could have gathered is now shattering under the onslaught of pure terror because the creature in front of him wants his blood, there’s no mistaking it, and he doesn’t know why or what happened, but he can _feel_ his bloodlust. The only thing he can do now is to turn and run for his life, hoping the Demon isn’t following his scent.

His survival instinct kicks in and as he escapes, he nimbly jumps over big rocks or stumps, tries to fit between narrow passages in the trees, mindless of where the hell is he actually going. And Flint is totally tracing him by following his scent, pursuing him in long, powerful strides, as if every obstacle John has to carefully avoid doesn’t even exist, the only advantage the human has is that the Demon had been sort of drugged by Low previously. This blind fury must be his doing as well, because there’s no other sensible explanation.

But whatever the truth is, Silver’s going to look for it later. If he ever comes out alive from that wild chase. He had just been thinking the place was starting to seem almost relaxing, with the starry sky and the ever present gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. Well, fuck that. Fuck that entirely. Running across a pitch-black forest, when things appear in your field of vision when you’re basically upon them is seriously a challenge and he can only thank how quick and deft he is if he somehow keeps going. He put some distance between himself and his pursuer, but he can hear his heavy steps still too close, his low continuous growling, interrupted only by beastly barks. It’s like being chased by wolves or hounds. Except it is one creature, several times more deadly and vicious.

Everything is a blur around him as he’s not bothering with checking where is he really running towards, he guesses he’s getting closer to the river again because he can hear the water and wouldn’t it be just grand if he ended up plummeting in the Mississippi and in the mouth of some ‘gator? Whatever, he’s not slowing down, the sheer terror is fuelling him despite his whole body feeling as heavy as lead by then, his lungs burning from exertion and his legs aching so much they are about to go numb, he got scratches and cuts all over his face and hands from the low branches and the shrubs he darted through.

John’s reaching the tree line and he wonders if he should leave the woods just to be sure to not crash against a tree or a rock as his attention is lowering from the physical strain, but he gets to a violent halt right there, a step away from the forest turning into muddy fields and marshlands. He ears the metallic terse snap and clang before he registers the blinding pain, made worse when he falls forward, his body tugging painfully on the trapped flesh of his left leg. It is so sudden and excruciating that makes black spots appear in his sight, the abrupt pang hits him like a full body blow. It must be one of Low’s traps.

When he looks down he confirms the sharp maws of a bear trap snapped on his left leg, some inches below the knee, the rusty teeth are deliberately blunt to cause the most maddening pain, they tore the skin more than cutting it and surely shattered the bone. The first impact had been so surprising and intense that it cut his breath, but now it is turning into sheer full-body agony, lacerated muscles throbbing with every frenzied heartbeat, blood gushing from the wounds like it would never stop. His whole frame trembles and shakes, tears filling his eyes as he tries his best to muffle the uncontrollable wails pushed through his throat by every broken heavy breath.

If Silver doesn’t go into shock and freezes there, is only because fear is keeping him somewhat focused. There’s no point in trying to run like that, but he’d be damned if he just gives up and waits to be mauled by his Demon gone berserk like that. His twitchy hands grab on the trap, made slippery by all the blood he’s still spilling, and try to force it open. It is sturdy and touching anything amps the ache up to a whole new level, but he guesses his pain threshold is extremely fucking high, because he’s actually opening the device without losing the hold on it thus preventing the damn thing from snapping again on his already butchered leg, which would probably knock him out completely. It feels endless to budge the contraption enough and he must have some hidden resources because he didn’t think he had it in him to find the physical strength to do any of that, sweat is drenching him all over but he’s not done yet. Now he has to _move_ the leg quick enough.

John inhales deeply two, three times before he bites on his lower lip and forces his limb to move against every angry pang of pain and every thought in his mind screaming ‘No, God, please, no’. When he releases the contraption he forces his body to crawl away from it and for a lack of anything else to focus on, the whole gut wrenching agony hits him fully, so overwhelming the backlash causes him to lean on the side and retch. He just wants to lay down and pass out, instead he forces himself to sit up and shrug his jacket off, he wraps it around his mangled leg, tying it the tighter he can. His heaving breaths carry helpless whimpers with every exhale and he’s not even realizing by then.

Screaming, passing out and giving himself up to the Demon’s impending mauling all sound like very valid options right now, but no. Some obstinate and masochistic part of him forces Silver to crawl on his elbows, to keep going, his whole mind reeling between delirious pain-induced thoughts and sharp orders that are spoken by Flint’s voice in his brain, unsurprisingly enough.

He probably manages to crawl as far as three yards before he turns to look to the thick trees bathed in darkness, the trunks like endless rows of black columns. There he sees it: like a will-o’-wisp the little flickering flame constantly floating above the Demon’s head while he’s in that form, right below are six glowing pins of feral light. It’s all he can see for now and it approaches slowly, the rest of his shape gradually taking form the closer it gets.

Flint strides unhurriedly, like a confident predator cornering a quivering prey. He’s still on his four and the closer he gets, the louder his huffing breath sounds, the better John can see every detail of his body and all of them scream ‘carnage’. The Demon stops only when he’s standing over the human, scalding exhales blowing right on his face, parted jaws hovering inches from his body, drool dripping from the bared fangs and now that they are so close, Silver can see that all the muscles in his body shift and ripple, tensing and going into spasms, veins pulsing, thin rivulets of blood are lazily streaming from his nostrils and eyes. Whatever has happened to him, it is hurting him.

There’s no way out of that. John can very well see it. As he can see Flint is in pain and if by killing him he can be free from it… Well, it sounds like an acceptable solution. At least, like this it would be his choice, to die for the other’s sake. He’s quiet and calm, not scared anymore, hammering heart slowing down, breath evening out a bit.

The Demon’s jaws snap and close on his shoulder to keep him still, fangs sinking in the flesh effortlessly. John fists his bloody trembling hands in the red fur to brace himself, it’s the closest he can get to one final embrace. Somewhere in the distance he can hear more growling and shouting and he assumes it’s Vane and Low fighting. His eyes skid to the side, searching briefly for any figure in the dark, but then return to look back into the other’s. Even if there’s no recognition in them, there’s nothing else he wants to see right now.

It had been just a handful of hours since he found himself laying beneath that same beast in a completely different way and it almost feels like a lifetime ago. The memory tugs painfully on his heartstrings.

Once again, time seems to slow down, the moment stretching infinitely in that last connection they can make, it’s cruel and unfair and that’s not how things should go, but neither of them has the power to stop inevitable things from happening and after everything is said and done, as sad as this ending is, those last few days had been life-changing and John Silver is content enough to have been able to live and change and love. Yes, even if they both had been too silly to say it out loud. He’s grateful for every moment of it, no matter how messy and violent and painful, fear and pain and betrayal are all forgotten.

And then time starts flowing again.

Razor-sharp claws rake over his chest and abdomen, edges cutting through his skin and then digging, blood pours and soaks him, he can feel it spurt and flow, warm and thick, and only then pain bursts from his insides like a geyser, starting deep in him and exploding to the surface, it’s probably worse than the leg or maybe not, but he’s screaming and the claws come down on him again and again and he wishes he could just pass out or die already, but he can’t and at this point he hopes he could just see Flint being himself one last time. The tight jaws slowly release his shoulder and that must be it, the Demon will bite on his neck and end him.

A second passes and nothing happens, the creature is hesitating, glowing eyes running all over the human whose grip on consciousness or sanity is feeble, but Silver still can reason that to go like that would be too sad, without any last words. One of his hands shakily caresses along the blood-drenched fur of the other’s neck and chin, a weak smile curls his own lips “I t-trust you” he stutters, their own personal confession.

Something snaps in the Demon, recognition dawning on his face, the thin rivulets of blood that dripped from his eyes are turning into thick tears, as if his veins are exploding, and he pulls back with a pained growl, he shakes his head and snarls until it turns into wailing and howling, from pain and sorrow and his own attempts at fighting whatever thing had been done to him. Flint is back on him but this time he’s desperately trying to make it better, still not able to speak words. That’s probably even crueler than dying without one last goodbye.

The sounds from the fight between Vane and Low have stopped, John registers absent-mindedly. His screaming must have distracted them or maybe one of them beat the other… he thinks he sees the wolfish appearance of Vane running towards them. Or maybe he’s hallucinating. He can’t make out sounds or words while the other Demon speaks, his body is slowly collapsing and he can barely register the sudden burst of freezing cold hitting him. So maybe Charles Vane crouching next to him is real.  
“I can’t do much more than this” he mumbles “That bastard Low is hiding again”.

Some shred of control is returning to him as John notices the blood has stopped, his mangled upper half covered in a thin layer of ice… that should buy them some time after all and he presses a strained “Thanks” from his lips.

Then Silver sucks a painful broken breath and reaches for Flint to make him look at his eyes and not at the butchering he did of him “T-take your payment” he pants “You n-need all your powers and I…” He can’t finish the sentence, the other is whining like he’s the wounded one between them. John grits his teeth and presses on “The leg… it’s useless anyway like this. Take it.”  
At least the momentary patching up that Vane did decreased the pain and he can _finally_ think sensibly again “Listen to me.” He orders, forcing the Demon to keep the eye-contact “You take it and kill that fucking demon first and then Alfred fucking Hamilton. Please.”

Flint and Vane exchange a wordless gaze, the former asking for privacy, the latter granting and standing guard.

The two of them are alone again, stealing seconds that they thought they wouldn’t be granted. The Demon can’t keep from nuzzling affectionately to the other’s neck and face, his beastly way of kissing, that doesn’t fail to make John smile despite everything and despite the desperate edge it has.  
“Won’t hurt.” the Demon manages to put together in a tentative grunt.  
“I know.” Silver replies, smile still gracing his lips and voice hoarse.

The human is wary while the other disentangles the improvised bandage, he expects the pain to shoot through him again, but soon enough the Demon’s hot gentle tongue is licking and lapping at his shredded skin, the usual tingling sensation gently flooding him, gradually overcoming the blunt ache and after everything he just went through, it is like a blessing. He licks and gives gentle nibbles, sucks softly on the jagged skin, cuts the leg on his trousers and takes off every piece of clothing with loving care. The usual warm pleasure rises and climbs its way from the limb to his belly.

It should be sick to feel like that in a situation such as this, but there’s no stopping the slow burn of awakening arousal, the languid way that tongue is lapping at him is nothing short of erotic. It’s foreplay, his mind provides before being swept away by the first bite the Demon takes. His eyes flutter shut and a shameless moan leaves his lips, the hot mouth closing around his flesh sending hot shivers along his spine. He tries uselessly to muffle the filthy sounds he’s letting out but every time the other goes down on him the pleasure seems to ramp up. He writhes weakly, hands fisting in the dirt and dry leaves, his head tilts back while he calls the other’s name with every moan.

Each bite and lap and tug is pure, raw pleasure coursing through his nerves like lightning, every part of him that is swallowed by the other is a wave of orgasmic rapture, tears filling his eyes and back arching softly from the ground before he falls back down, panting and trembling with the shaky aftermath. Silver manages only to exchange one last look with his Demon before his consciousness slips away from him, body still pulsing from the rushes of blessed pleasure. The last he sees of him is the flickering flame over his head blazing furiously, growing and crackling with sudden energy, his eyes are finally sharp and fierce as they used to be, his own blood is still dripping from the jaws and fangs.

“Go.” John whispers before passing out.

There’s just too much hitting Flint all at once now that he’s back in control of his mind and body, most of it he can’t even allow himself to feel right now because dealing with what he just did would break him. He just can’t. Not yet. So he hangs onto that simple order and sprints to drive Low out. He unleashes the rage he kept inside him for years, allows it to become his driving force, pretends it is the only thing that makes him and that it could burn everything else. Every step he takes chars the ground under his paws, his veins throb and glow with the tremendous power coursing through him, fire burning deep inside and setting his blood ablaze, like the flame in a lantern, projecting the shadow of his bone structure against his skin. Green flares erupt from his eyes and incandescent air erupts from his mouth and nostrils, like the heat from the crater of a volcano.

He finds Low had tried to attack Vane again while Flint was distracted, they are wrestling when he launches himself between them. Low scuttles back with a hiss while he and Charles exchange a brief nod. They pursue the other Demon, movements quick and smooth as they cross and part, pushing him wherever they want like predators toying with their food. The slimy creature crawls in the shadows, hiding in the mud, only to try and sneak up on one of them, but whenever he does they protect each other like they are one. They move sharp and deadly, alternating bursts of scorching flames to cutting slivers of ice, never getting in the way of the other as they prowl after Low.

When Low tries to surprise Vane and bite on him with his venomous teeth, Charles dodges quickly and pins him to a tree, clawed hand squeezing his neck, the rubbery skin beneath his palm covering with cold burns, he snarls right in his face, misty breath oozing like smoke. Flint rises on his hind legs and steps close. He looks the despicable being over, forces him to keep his eyes on him, while he slowly plunges two claws in his orbit, pulling his milky white eye out, blood gushing while the Demon writhes and hisses in pain. He gives one final tug and plucks the damn thing out. He doesn’t know whose eye was that, to which demon it belonged once, but it had done enough damage as it was and Flint hadn’t enjoyed tasting its capacity to trigger pain-induced murderous fury.

James has nothing to say to that pathetic wretch. That he targeted John only to clear the way for Hamilton to make a deal could be understandable, but for him to plan for Flint to kill Silver is unforgivable, even more so when it’s obvious how much he was having fun with it. It’s normal that he only wants to see Low suffer now, so he cuts him open with his claws, deep and wide enough to disembowel him. He watches silently as he wails and twitches, chocking on his own blood and saliva, it’s a pitiful sight and Low’s already losing his mind from the pain. He’s had enough. He gives one last nod to Vane and turns to go back to John, not even looking while Charles tears Low’s head clean from his neck.

When he drops to his knees next to Silver, he notices the human is still breathing even if weakly.

Vane hurries to reach the other Demon, all the others are still waiting for them to return, the chances to effectively attack Hamilton getting slimmer by the minute “If we don’t go now, Hamilton will leave. There’s nothing you can do.” he grumbles, tone neutral, merely informing him. When Flint looks up at him, he already knows what he’s about to say, but doesn’t interrupt him.  
“I have to save him” he replies, calmly. He must be about to come apart at the seams, keeping himself together out of sheer will power and need to do _anything_ “I’m sorry I dragged you all along in my personal vendetta. Tell the others when you see them.”

As he says so, the fire burning in him blazes even stronger. His whole body is surrounded by flames now while his eyes won’t leave the human before him, his words sound terribly final. _Flint_ apologizing to _them_ is fucking upsetting and Charles doesn’t like it one bit.  
“What the hell are you trying to do?” Vane asks, he has a vague idea but he’d rather not even think about it.

“My bond with this plane is perfect now. I can dispose of all my capacities to the fullest” James offers, matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious.  
No powers would be enough to heal such amount of damage and they both know “It’s beyond your capacities, you will have to consume yourself.” Mutters Vane “You will most certainly die! What the fuck is wrong with you two?!” he adds with an alarmed growl. And since when they turned into a couple of self-sacrificing idiots?  
Flint doesn’t reply, he simply looks at him with such resignation in his eyes, like he tried for so long and with so much determination to escape a fate he was already bound to, before he even realized.

And Charles recognizes that resignation, he felt it himself, a long time ago. Had been ready to do anything as well back then. He doesn’t comment while the Demon in front of him, the one he came to respect and recognize, that he could see himself become friends with at some point, prepares to tear his very essence to pieces to save one Human, he just gave up his will to avenge himself, thought that rage, death and destruction were the only things left in him that made him who he is, his first and strongest motivators, but no.  
All this time, he had been moved by love.

Vane won’t stop him. He actually feels somewhat touched by all that and the fearsome Fire Demon actually being a fool in love.  
He sighs and shakes his head “At least do try to completely consume yourself, please. Don’t make me carry both your dead asses.” He comments as a final goodbye. He can’t start being nice with him just because they respect each other now, right?

Flint seems to get the real sentiment behind his words and huffs a noisy breath through his nostrils before his eyes focus back on the dying Human. He places a hand on his devastated chest, a trembling soft whimper leaves the Demon’s lips, the grip he had been having on himself up until that point is starting to waver and crumble. Tears fill his eyes before they flutter close.

A tall incandescent column of raging fire suddenly swallows him, roaring up towards the sky, so bright and violent that the Demon’s whole form disappears in it and it is actually quite impressive to see that inferno touch the unconscious man without damaging him in the least. For the other must be unbearably painful and at first the roar of the flames is the only sound he can hear, but then from beneath comes the gut-wrenching agonizing howl.

Vane hates to admit it, but he actually takes a step back, the sight and sounds physically sicken him even though he can only imagine what could be happening amidst the fire and how could it feel to break and burn your very existence bit by bit, after you lost everything and won nothing back, when after feeling like a dead thing, a bloody specter thirsty for revenge, you find something to cherish and protect and even that gets taken away from you. It’s just too painful. He won’t take his eyes away, though. He owes Flint that much, to be a witness of it all.

At least, all the terrible injuries that turned Silver’s internal organs into confetti are flawlessly healing, without even leaving a scar behind and Charles wonders if the Demon is realizing that his sacrifice is actually working. The only thing that doesn’t regenerate is the leg, but John probably won’t be as bothered by it as he will be by the fact that Flint will be dead and gone and he will be alone again, brought back without even asking if he could accept such a price, without consent.

At the end of it all, Hamilton will still be alive and unscathed, while the victims will have lost everything, nothing will change in the great scheme of things.

Vane can’t say how long it takes before the flames die out, but when they do the body that crashes down to the ground is that of Flint’s human form.

In the end, he has to carry their asses back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. It was wild. And I rescheduled this chapter more than once, I'm still not totally convinced, but it's done. You're almost there, there's just the epilogue and then you're done.  
> As always, kudos to everyone that got this far <3 thank you! You're amazing!


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Orleans, 1861.

**Epilogue  
  
**

New Orleans, 1861.  
The civil war finally reached the city. Things were bound to change, but as it usually is, humans will pretend they won’t until it can’t be avoided anymore. And even if the youths die by the thousand on the battlefield, the ones sentencing them all won’t deny themselves life’s pleasures, if only for the sake of the pretense that nothing will change after all.

There’s no reason for those powerful men to admit their imminent defeat, can’t show themselves weak even though the previous year the city’s militia suffered the loss of well-respected commander Hornigold as well as the governor’s right-hand man Woodes Rogers. Both would have been great assets for the Confederate Army.

No matter. Alfred Hamilton isn’t going to think they are doomed by such a fact, he’s still financing the army and won’t hold back funds. Of course, it is a pity, even more so when he considers he had been about to finally obtain such means that he wouldn’t have to worry about power or success ever again. But in the end, he came out alive while the Demon that wanted him dead didn’t. He can always try to seek out another, after all.

Either way, he’s far too busy with war effort at the moment, making friends with all the most important men, seeking out insurances for his possessions in exchange for his favors, throwing money about to self-promote. Organizing evenings such as this one, to make sure the generals and officers are well-rested and recognized in their sacred duty. So they won’t forget what an upstanding citizen he is. There are hands to shake and favors to bestow, new allies to be found, since the previous are all dead now.

A travesty, but it impresses the common people, so he plays his part flawlessly, hosts the event with decorum and feigned commitment. He won’t deny meeting all sorts of personalities, won’t shy away from any propagandistic act, as long as someone else is fighting for his right to keep what is his, his land, his slaves. He’s a civilized man, they don’t fight like brutes, they let lesser men do it for them.

And such men are grateful, as they should be, for being given a purpose, an utility. For instance, the young man he had been asked to meet this evening, a soldier that had been discharged due to a debilitating injury and that expressed his desire to thank him personally.

“I was told the food in my bowl or the medications for my leg had been paid with your money” he says, awe in his wide blue eyes and shy politeness on his lips while he offers his hand to him, other hand clutching a crutch “I hoped to be able to thank you in person, Sir” he adds, blushing and looking away.

Alfred shakes his hand and returns the smile “Of course, it’s the least I can do for our brave soldiers” he says before guiding the other to his study, to be granted some privacy. The young man shifts uneasily on the spot when offered something to drink, gaze slipping to the side with a discreet blush “It is such an honor for me, Sir” he admits. There’s something almost coy to his smile and gaze. It surely is a shame that such a charming young man suffered a disfiguring wound that cost him his leg.

Hamilton invites him to take a seat and watches as the other hobbles to the offered armchair in front of the lit fireplace before he takes the other one. The young soldier takes a sip of the drink and makes a soft approving hum, they surely didn’t have prime quality whiskey back at the camp.

“How did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking.” Inquires Hamilton with a small gesture towards the missing leg.  
The other looks down at his limb with a sigh, clearly haunted by the memories “It was a cannonball, Sir. The fellow soldier next to me hadn’t been so lucky.” He replies with a sheepish smile, trying to hide the grief.  
“Forgive my manners” Alfred continues “I didn’t even ask for your name”

The young man chuckles and shakes his head, he’s incredibly charming, it can’t be argued “Don’t worry, Sir. I know it’s an eyesore.” His hand pats lightly on the thigh to underline his words “Solomon Little. Pleased to finally meet you, Lord Hamilton. Of course, you need no introductions.” He adds, relaxing a bit.

Alfred gives a little friendly nod and they both sip on their drinks, as if sharing a little toast to their late introductions. The older man sighs “I can’t imagine it’s easy” he reasons.  
Little shrugs and turns to look at the fire crackling in front of them “It’s a small price to pay.” His voice is distant like his gaze while he is transfixed for a long moment. He then seems to shake himself and the shy smile finds its way back on his lips “But you surely know better than anyone else. To get where you are you must have sacrificed a lot.”  
“Indeed. I worked hard” Hamilton replies “But the secret is to never stop and be ready to give anything up if the situation requires it.”

The innocent smile on the man’s face suddenly shifts, turns into a smirk that’s smug and almost sly “I see. You’d be ready to sacrifice anything, already did I bet. Even your own son, perhaps.”  
The words are sudden and brutal, the complete change in the man’s appearance and tone is like a slap in the face and Hamilton tenses immediately “Who are you?”

As soon as the question is asked, the light in the room goes off, leaving only the fireplace to illuminate them and nothing else beyond the armchairs, muffled screams and running erupt from the rest of the building, beyond the closed door. The young man is still grinning devilishly, enjoying the terror that now is showing on Alfred’s face “I’m here on behalf of James Flint.” He says, slow and deliberate, as if tasting the words on his tongue.  
“He’s dead” Hamilton protests. The commotion outside gets louder, as if the place is under attack.

The other’s grin widens in cruel delight “Not anymore, he’s not.” He declares.  
In the pitch-black darkness behind his armchair, Hamilton realizes, a pair of glowing eyes is now staring at him. They come closer and from the shadows a hand extends to gently land on the young man’s shoulder, squeezes it affectionately.

The last thing Hamilton sees is the steel of the blade glaring in the light from the flames before it plunges in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you're really done!! Good job and thanks to whoever got to the end of it. Thanks again to everyone that supported me, thanks to the one who inspired all this and more than anyone motivated me to get through it all.  
> Now I'll be grieving for having finished this, probably ^^'. But I hope you all enjoyed reading this and as always, I thank you for your comments and kudos and more generally for sticking with my ramblings <3 You're awesome!

**Author's Note:**

>  **Now with even more wonderful[art](https://dragonbier.tumblr.com/post/618468407845814272/all-these-are-from-the-demonsau-my-lovely-friend) from my lovely and amazing friend Dracontessa**  
> You need to go and smother her in love and appreciation and all this is at the end only because it would be a spoiler at the beginning, otherwise it would come before ANYTHING.  
> GO LOVE HER RIGHT NOW! (Look at the first picture there, it's my new icon, I'm crey ;w;)


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